Spider-Man: Captured
by notawritersh
Summary: Six months since he's gotten his powers. Five months since he was taken, gone to train, gone so that he could capture Barnes and bring him to Zemo. He thought he didn't care, that he could finish the task and head back home, back with his aunt. Unfortunately, nothing works out the way they're supposed to, and he ends up helping the Avengers defeat Zemo instead.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! I am procrastinating on my stories as usual but this is completely different than what I am used to writing. I had a plot swimming around my head for a while that wasn't completely based on Peter being depressed and I feel like this could have a lot of potential! Thanks MpeachlinS for beta reading this story!

Here's the first chapter!

* * *

Peter swung around the city, soaking wet from the rain that was pouring down that day. He didn't mind it that much, really, and no one would be dumb enough to steal stuff while it was raining this hard.

Why would he be out at this time anyway? It was 10:00pm, he should've been in his room by now, scribbling answers on his school book and sitting down with May and Ben to watch a popular show together so that they could make fun of it. But instead, here he was, swinging around like a lunatic and to go along with it, he was also wearing a cheap red hoodie with a spider sharpied in the middle.

It was Friday, anyways, Peter could probably make an easy excuse saying that he was staying over with Ned that night, so that's exactly what he did. He sat down on the ledge distractedly and began typing a message to his aunt. He ended it with a smiley face and put his crappy phone back into his pocket, taking off his mask along the way.

He flinched slightly at the feeling of rain dropping onto his head and face, but Peter didn't mind. He looked at the city below and saw the Avengers Tower a few ways away. Peter smiled slightly, wrapping his arms around his middle to try and keep himself warm whilst simultaneously trying to look for any thugs trying to look for anyone acting suspiciously.

Maybe he deserved staying in the rain. To be fair, it was probably nothing compared to what Uncle Ben must've been feeling when he died. God, the funeral sucked. Everyone was sad and pitying and told him "it'll all be okay" or "it's all part of God's Plan."

They didn't understand, not really anyways. They didn't know that Peter was there, that he had watched him die. He was there for his last words, and it sucked, so bad. He should've done something, said something, but he was dumb and stupid and just watched him die.

It was stupid. A joke.

So when he went after the thug who shot his uncle, he put on his mask and webbed the prick up and handed him over to the police.

That's why he became… well, what he was today.

Some idiot teen trying to help the little guys out.

He'd like it if he joined the Avengers, he really would, but his powers were nothing compared to the rest of them. So Peter stuck with helping out and patrolling and giving people directions and saving kids' balloons.

It was nice. He understood his powers a little more and got more thugs arrested.

It was fun. It was a nice little side job, a chill thing to do, and it was a good way of letting his Uncle somehow know that, hey, I'm trying to make you proud.

Peter checked the time and realized forty-five minutes had passed and decided to head home, putting his mask back on and shooting a web onto a nearby building. He didn't even get to swing when his senses made a chill go through his spine and he whirled around, moving to the left as a dart whizzed past him.

"What the hell?" Peter looked around and saw some weirdo on the roof with him.

It was a… hm, how would you describe him? A person with a skull for a face, with some sort of cloak over his head, and… I guess you could call it some sort of armor plating. "Hey! I recognize you! You're were hanging on my neighbor's porch for Halloween!" Peter quipped, thinking that this was just some weird-looking thug that was looking for a fight.

It seemed that the skull face person didn't seem to appreciate the joke all that much as he only growled and raised a tranquilizer gun to shoot Peter again. In turn, he shot his hands up, trying to back away.

"Woah, woah, woah, buddy, who even are you? Like, seriously?" He pouted from behind his mask, crossing his arms. "You're not even going to introduce yourself?" Peter tilted his head amusedly, thinking that this was just going to be a quick fight and that he could go home soon.

That wasn't the case.

"The name's Taskmaster," the skull person said in an odd sort of robotic-like voice. He loaded the gun again before putting it behind his back. "And you're coming with me."

"Sorry, but I was taught never to take candy from strangers," Peter retorted, before thinking his statement over. "or.. would it be never to go with weird Halloween looking people?"

He looked contemplative and Taskmaster sighed in annoyance, lunging forward, presumably to just conk him on the head and call it a day. However, Peter jumped over him and webbed his face, surprising the man. Peter seemed proud of himself for catching mister Halloween fanatic off guard.

The pride didn't last very long though, because the man ripped the webbing off easily. Peter turned around and was punched somewhere in between his ribs, flying onto the ground. He coughed lightly.

"Jeez, you hit hard," the hero said, attempting to stand up. Taskmaster tried to take advantage of it by shooting him with the tranquilizer again, but Peter still managed to somehow dodge the dart.

Peter lunged towards the skull man and began a series of kicks and punches to try and knock him out. However, Taskmaster seemed to be barely flinching as they both fought each other using hand to hand combat.

It was a good fight, to be completely fair, but in the middle of it, Peter's phone started vibrating in his pocket, and he tried to get away from his opponent so that he could answer whoever was calling him. He supposed it was Aunt May checking in on his "sleepover." However, Taskmaster kicked him harder than he expected and he tripped, his phone tumbling onto the ground.

It got crushed as the skull man walked towards him.

"Dude, do you know how expensive that was?" Peter asked, offended as he got back up. "Honest to god, once we're done with this you're so buying me a new phone-"

He got shoved to the ground again and Taskmaster growled, "you talk too much."

"I mean, there's really no way of telling if someone is talking too much," Peter said as he dodged flying fists from mister Halloween. "To be fair, you're talking too little. Are you insecure about your voice? It's okay, buddy- Jesus fuck-"

Peter had dodged too late and managed to get a beautiful punch onto his face. He flinched and he felt like his brain was bouncing around in his head as he tried to kick Taskmaster off. Instead, he was held down by his shoulders as he felt something pierce against his arm.

Peter screamed, wriggling himself away from the Halloween man, but the grip on his shoulders became tighter and he realized that Taskmaster had decided to just plunge the dart into him without the use of the gun. He seemed satisfied with himself, he couldn't really tell, given to the fact that he basically has a skull for a face. Or maybe it was just a dollar store mask….

He felt drowsy and loopy, but he didn't want to leave Aunt May alone. Peter couldn't fight back though, he already saw black spots clouding his eyes as he blinked hazily, trying his best to throw off Taskmaster.

Peter's only hope was that May wouldn't be too lonely or get too worried about him. He had hoped that they would both be okay, but after the funeral a few weeks ago, he wasn't entirely sure.

But he could've sworn someone was speaking a funny language as he blacked out, or maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

* * *

When he woke, Peter found himself in a dark room. Even with his newly heightened eyesight, he still couldn't exactly see where he was. He knew that he was tied to some sort of chair because when he tried moving his hands they kept tugging against a sort of rope. Peter frowned as he squinted his eyes before realizing he still had his mask on. He supposed that was supposed to make him feel better, which it kinda did until he heard faint footsteps coming his way.

Peter tensed as a key unlocked the door and light flooded the room after a switch was flicked. He flinched harshly from the sudden brightness and closed his eyes to try and soothe the oncoming headache he was about to have. Although he was thankful that it wasn't that weird, Taskmaster skull man, he did feel a little underwhelmed when he saw a regular human walk towards him.

The man seemed like an average guy, with dirty blonde hair and a sort of grumpy face. His lips were quirked upwards, and Peter supposed that he was smirking. So, probably a sadistic guy. That was his first impression anyways.

Anyways, the man grabbed a chair and pulled it in front of Peter, who finally got a good look at his setting and predicament.

He guessed it was a type of office. There was an old wooden desk against the wall and multiple fold-out chairs beside it. Peter was right about being tied up in a chair, and he tugged on the rope all the more while glaring at the man.

The man sat down on the chair and faced Peter, staring him down before saying, "you're the spider person on youtube."

Peter rolled his eyes from behind his mask and nodded stiffly. "Spider-Man," he corrected, before adding, "and you are?"

He didn't mean for it to sound sarcastic, but it did anyway. The man ducked his head down, shaking his head before looking at the hero again. "Call me Zemo."

_That's a pretty dumb name,_ but Peter wouldn't say it out loud. Instead, he nodded his acknowledgment before tugging on the rope. the silence unsettled Peter while his senses were warning him to get away from the man. "What do you want from me?"

Instead of answering his question, Zemo responded with a different question: "Who are you?"

"Spider-Man," Peter blinked, "I just said that."

"Behind the mask," the man said with clear annoyance, "Who are you?"

"What's it to you?"

"Do you want to die?"

Yes, Peter thought to himself but didn't say it out loud. "Peter."

Zemo looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and the hero eventually revealed his last name. He took off Peter's mask, revealing his lightly bruised cheek. The hero looked almost offended as hair fell onto his face. "You're young," Zemo stated plainly.

"I'm fourteen," Peter said quietly, glaring at him. "What do you want from me?"

"You need to do something for me."

"Do you usually kidnap teenagers to do things for you?"

Zemo ignored his question, rolling his eyes. "Do you know the Winter Soldier?"

Sounded familiar… They learned about him in history class, a little bit, and how it was actually Captain America's best friend back in the day and how he was on the run. Peter himself thought that the man was innocent because when he did research on him, he found out that he was actually brainwashed to do the things he did.

That must've sucked.

"Yeah, we learned about him in school... why?"

"I need you to get him for me."

"Why would you think I would do that?" Peter frowned, moving to cross his arms before remembering he was still ties up.

"I know who you are," Zemo said, looking Peter right in the eyes. It made him uncomfortable, like it was a test, like it was something that would determine who he actually was. "One search of your name on google and I'll know everything about you."

To prove it, Zemo stood up and grabbed a computer from the other room before sitting back down. He typed in Peter's name as the teen watched helplessly.

"Look at that." Zemo's lips quirked up into a smirk as he showed Peter the screen, turning the computer around. "You have an aunt. May Parker? I wonder what would happen to her if you don't do what I ask you to do."

The man watched as Peter gritted his teeth, glaring daggers at Zemo. For the short amount of time he's known him, he already hated him. "Don't hurt her."

"Then stay with us," Zemo explained, leaning back on his chair. "We'll train you, understand your powers, and then eventually you'll look for the Winter Soldier."

"How do you even know where he is?"

"Romania. We'll fly there."

"I… I don't have a passport…"

"We'll forge you one. You'll be fine."

Still, Peter hesitated, looking down. Who knows how long that'll take? How exactly were they going to "train" him? Zemo noticed the teen's silence and said, "we'll let you build a better suit."

Peter looked up at him and sighed, before nodding, already regretting his decision. "Just don't hurt May."

"Of course not."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks again MpeachlinS for betaing the story!

* * *

Peter fell onto the ground again as he felt his eighth bruise start forming around his chest and ribcage. They'd been training (if that's what you want to call it) for about two hours now, and he hadn't eaten since lunch. It was now 1:00 a.m., and he'd much rather pass out. He groaned, standing up as Taskmaster mocked him.

"You favour your left leg." Mister Skull Man said, before also telling him, "You need to stop holding back."

"I'm not," Peter shot back in frustration, going forward to kick the man before being surprised by the fact that he had dodged it. He whirled around surprised and confused, while Taskmaster only grumbled.

"You're predictable."

"Wow, thanks." The teen breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath and forcing himself to stay awake and keep his eyes open. "Is that why you knew I was planning to run away?"

Taskmaster ignored that question. "Tired?" He almost sounded amused, and Peter pouted and took off his mask to get rid of the sweat that was building up on his forehead.

"Yeah, and I'm starving," and in a quiet voice he added, "I miss my home."

Taskmaster looked at him strangely before motioning him to come back inside Zemo's apartment. They had been training outside in his backyard, and Peter, again, flinched at the sudden bright light as he walked inside.

"There's a sandwich in the cupboard." Zemo said boredly, not even bothering to give them a greeting. Taskmaster nodded to the man before walking out of the backyard and heading somewhere else, and soon was out of Peter's sight.

Peter awkwardly grabbed said sandwich and slowly started eating it, realizing that it was peanut butter. He looked at it suspiciously, and noticed that Zemo was staring at him. It unnerved him, and his senses went off as an itchy sort of feeling.

"You're not the only one he trains," Zemo told the teen as he continued eating his sandwich. Peter assumed that was the case, and looked over the man's shoulder.

"What are... what are you doing?" There was no use in being rude if he was supposed to stay here until he's done with whatever he needed to do. He just hoped it was soon, so that he could see his friends and his aunt again. He was already starting to miss them.

"Looking for information about Hydra, or about the Winter Soldier." He tapped against the keys and scrolled down, but Peter got bored quickly and finished his sandwich.

Peter still felt hungry but he didn't feel like talking anymore. Instead, he asked, "Where do I sleep?"

"The room you were in a while ago."

"There's no bed."

"You can manage."

Peter was about to protest before Zemo glared at him, and he uneasily walked back into the office like room he was in when he had first woken up.

Now, he laid down in one of the corners and pulled his sleeves down to keep himself warm. He shivered as he closed his eyes, trying to sleep, and ended up crying as he felt his heart ache for Ben and his aunt. Peter cried until he felt too tired and hungry to do anything else but sleep, and the thought of escaping left his mind as he remembered the list of threats that Taskmaster had told him before they started training.

* * *

Peter tried to escape the following morning, to find his way back to his aunt, back home. Taskmaster saw him and threw him back inside the apartment, which woke Zemo up.

To be fair, it was a terrible plan, a horrible plan actually, but he had no better ideas so he just went to the first thing that came to mind. Unfortunately, that cost him breakfast and lunch, with even rougher training. Taskmaster had spent the first hour threatening, mocking, and lecturing him while Peter was in rags and an empty stomach.

His suit was nearly destroyed after their four-hour training session, and he came out of it bruised in places he didn't even think existed. Peter was sore and could barely walk without being in pain, but it was fine. He just needed to be careful next time.

While Mister Skull Fanatic had been talking to Peter, he had assured the teen that they could easily find him should he ever run away. If it had been any other day, Peter would have snorted and rolled his eyes, but now he had no doubt that it was true and that if they ever caught him running away again, they'd give him a worse punishment.

The only good thing that came out of it was the fact that Taskmaster had given him two bags of supplies from leftovers of the fallen HYDRA as well as S.H.I.E.L.D.

Zemo had long since left at 11:00 a.m and hadn't been back yet. It was now 3:00 p.m and Peter was trying to regain his energy by eating whatever food he was allowed to eat. Out of nowhere Taskmaster appeared and dropped two duffel bags of…

"Are those drugs?" Peter asked skeptically, frowning as he looked up at the intimidating… was he even a person?

Taskmaster grunted and opened up both zippers to reveal scraps and pieces of technology that he had managed to salvage.

Although Peter was impressed that he had managed to find stuff like that, he was still confused as to what exactly they were for. "What are-"

"Your suit," Skull man simply said, "You can use those pajamas you call a suit and salvage that to make it better."

He turned to leave as Peter muttered, "they're not pajamas…"

Even so, Peter finished his food quickly as his appetite was gone, his body fueled with a sort of… not exactly happiness, but a sort of bittersweet contentment of being able to actually know how to do something while he was at this shithole.

For two weeks it went on like that. Zemo still hadn't reappeared but Taskmaster was still training Peter. He found out about the teen's strengths and weaknesses, his powers, his skills, and abilities, and he worked on them from there, building them up. They'd train for about four hours in the morning and then afterward have a break before training well into the night. Each night Peter cried himself to sleep, hoping he'd see his friends and May again.

During that time, Peter knew the basic mechanics of defending himself with a shield and got better with his hand to hand combat. At times he was taught how to use a bow as well as guns, shooting targets with them. Sure, he was good with them, but he'd always prefer hand to hand combat. He even became good with martial arts, and he hated to admit it, but the guy was a pretty good mentor.

Well, not a _good_ mentor, but a good mentor in the sense that he knew what exactly to teach or tell him next.

Taskmaster found ways to make Peter's strengths become weaknesses too, such as his enhanced sight and hearing. at one point, he had given the teen a sensory overload from speaking too loudly and the sun being too bright. Stupid reasons, but that's what you get for being forced to train some twelve-year-old kid.

Peter also made himself a new suit out of the scrap materials that the skull man had given it to him. It was now a stretchier sort of suit, with more room in his cartridge for his web fluid. He added some sort of foam padding around the most likely areas he'd get hit in so he could have some sort of defense and built a mechanism where he could recognize simple routes and areas with his mask on. Sort of like a GPS.

Zemo eventually came back holding an old book with a red star on the front as well as a stolen passport for Peter. He was to be identified as Carlos Reys, and they already looked similar, which was convenient. The only real thing they had to do was fiddle around with Peter's hair. They ended up having to trim it a little to make it look more accurate and use more gel, and by the end of it, he looked like a teenager with a babyface.

They went to the first available flight to Romania. They had managed to pass all their security checks and even got in with the stolen passport, even after they got off the plane. When they got onto the airplane, Zemo ignored Peter and Peter ignored Zemo. The teen did notice how frequently he'd listen to his voicemails, though, and thought that there must've been a reason why. Not just because of an annoying scammer. He would've asked, but he wasn't sure if he'd get in trouble or not.

They had no doubt that Taskmaster would find his way to their hotel, and they were right.

It was night time when they arrived there, and Peter guessed that the time difference was very different from Queens. He hoped that May was okay and that she hadn't done anything rash or stupid.

They were almost done, he was sure of it. Then he'd go home where he belonged.

Unfortunately, it took so much longer than they expected.

For months he was forced to be trained by mister skull person, often renting out gym rooms or shooting ranges. Each time Peter tried to escape, he was wrapped by a glowing red rope, and it would coil around him tightly until he couldn't breathe. He supposed it was a way of punishment, to tell him not to do it again. Eventually, he had gotten so sick of getting nightmares from those events that he stopped trying to escape.

Peter was miserable though, to say the least. Zemo didn't care that he had an enhanced metabolism and that he needed to eat more in order to gain more calories and energy. They gave him a small amount of food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They left him with a fairly warm blanket, though, even though he had to sleep on a small armchair.

Prior to Taskmaster's style, he left after every training session and came back the next morning. So it was only Peter and Zemo in the small hotel room.

When they were by themselves, Zemo took to teaching Peter German during his spare time. Sometimes, while they were eating, Peter would ask, "who keeps leaving you voicemails?" Zemo would always ignore his question and go over what his plan was, and what he would do to May and Peter if the teen should fail.

Peter never fell asleep easily, because in the middle of the night he would hear what he guessed was Zemo in the bathroom, whispering quiet words that he couldn't quite make out. One time when he put his ear close to the bathroom door, he still couldn't make out what the words meant, but then he realized that those words were probably in a different language.

Peter never asked about them, though, and he never asked about the voicemails again.

As Peter counted the days that he had been away from his home, he realized it had already been five months.

Five months since seeing his friends, his aunt, his home.

He missed home, he missed coming home and laying in a bed and hugging his aunt.

They promised it was going to be short, but he didn't want to stay for the whole year. He hated it, hated being stuck there.

He hated learning German, hated how he became fluent in the language, hated how he knew how to use guns and bows.

He wanted to be Peter. But that didn't seem to matter to Zemo.

But he was given his mission that day, and he just hoped he wouldn't have to hurt anyone.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks again MpeachlinS for betaing the story!

* * *

Bucky handed twenty-five leu to the street vendor and thanked her while grabbing multiple plums and putting them in a small, clear plastic bag. He had lived in Bucharest for several months now and had gotten to know the layout of an area. That being said, it didn't mean that he didn't get recognized, but it was easier than back in America. He adjusted his hat a bit before walking back to his apartment, before spotting a small cat near one of the alleyways.

He stopped short, looking at the creature curiously, before carefully kneeling down in front of it. It was a small white kitten, and Bucky held out his hand to pet it, only to cause the cat to run away. He frowned, self consciously rolling his sleeve down before moving to stand up.

A small snap caused him to get up abruptly, though, as he heard small footsteps in the alleyway. Bucky squinted his eyes and saw a lanky brunette boy, probably no older than twelve, run out of the alley. The boy's eyes widened, and Bucky got a clear look at his dirt ridden face and his ragged clothes. He frowned for the second time that day, wondering if he was homeless or was treated badly at home.

He watched as the kid's eyes darted between him and the cat that was quickly disappearing, and Bucky assumed that the cat was his. Bucky looked at his face, his hands held up as a sort of surrendering position and saw fear in the boy's eyes. He didn't know what for, because the kid had taken a few steps towards him before stumbling backward, shaking his head. Bucky tilted his head slightly, confused.

And then, Bucky said, in Romanian: "Who are you?"

The boy didn't seem to understand, as his head slightly tilted to the side, making some of his hair fall on his face. Bucky sighed and looked around, looking around for some sort of indication that this boy's family was near. Unfortunately, he didn't see anyone around them and turned back to the boy, who was already beginning to run away.

"Wait," Bucky said, walking towards him, and the boy froze, turning to look at him. He kept his hands held up, and that was when the boy spoke.

"Ich habe hunger," the boy said quietly, wrapping his arms around himself, "das war meine katze." He looked at Bucky, his eyes portraying something other than fear, perhaps sadness, or hopelessness, and Bucky wondered what had happened to the boy in order for him to end up in that situation, to have that sort of haunting expression in his eyes. Luckily, he was fluent in German, as HYDRA had forced him to learn the language. He was able to speak to the child with ease.

"It's okay," Bucky replied in the same language, opening the plastic bag containing his plums. The boy looked at him curiously as he pulled out a plum. He held it out towards the kid, smiling softly. "Here."

The boy took the fruit with a shaking hand as he examined it, suspiciously looking at the man, who only shrugged.

"What's your name, kid?" He asked after a while. The boy only shrugged, putting the fruit inside a worn pocket. He looked down as Bucky looked at him with a calculating expression, before telling him his own nickname, from decades ago. "Bucky."

It had been an adventure for him, remembering all his previous memories before HYDRA. He lived in fear of himself, scared that he'd forget himself, forget his memories, forget Steve…

But this boy looked like he needed his help, so he was going to try and help him.

The kid looked up at him, a confused expression on his face, before slowly nodding, realizing that he had meant it as a name. Slowly, the boy repeated the name, "...Bucky."

Bucky smiled, nodding. "Mmhm," he let out a soft sigh, "do you want me to help look for your cat?"

The boy only shrugged, looking down again. "I'm not a baby," he mumbled, in English, and Bucky looked at him surprised.

"You could've at least told me you spoke English," Bucky said, crossing his arms, a small smirk quirking up onto his lips. The child shrugged again, and Bucky defeatedly frowned before patting his back, motioning him out of the alley.

"You still haven't told me your name," He said gently as they walked through the streets, looking for the boy's lost cat. "You don't have to," he reassured, "it would just be helpful to know."

The boy looked up at Bucky suspiciously, and he could only guess that he was trying to see if he was "worthy" of knowing his name. It was a painfully long silence, and Bucky was just about to tell the kid not to worry about it before he heard a small voice.

"Peter," he said softly, looking away from Bucky, "you can call me Peter."

"Nice to meet you, Peter." Bucky smiled, patting him on the back.

They spent five minutes looking for Peter's cat, and the kid had avoided Bucky's gaze during that amount of time. Bucky felt kind of lost, like he didn't exactly know what to do from there. It was an awkward silence, and he was left listening to his steps and the dragging of Peter's feet. He tried to make conversation, but the boy only answered by shrugging or by staying silent.

Finally, they found the cat, curled up by a nearby bush, and Peter looked around before paling and picking up the small cat.

Bucky wondered why the boy had paled, but that thought didn't last very long as he heard the boy say, "Alpine!" He watched as Peter picked up and petted the cat, and he saw a smile grace upon the kid's face for the first time. He felt proud of himself, glad that he was able to provide him with comfort and a bit of happiness.

What he didn't expect, though, was when Peter offered the cat to Bucky.

It had been probably two minutes since the reunion, and Peter's smile slowly faded as he whispered to the cat quietly. Even if Bucky strained his hearing, he probably wouldn't be able to hear what the kid was saying.

After a while, though, Peter looked up at Bucky and said, "you can have her, sir."

Bucky looked at him surprised and confused, frowning. "She's yours."

"I can't take care of her. She's not going to last long if she's with me." Peter sort of had a sad smile on his face, and Bucky lightly petted Alpine.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't have anything. I don't have supplies, food. She's not safe with me. I can't, I can't…" he looked down again.

"You can stay at my place for a while," Bucky insisted, "I have food, I have room-"

"Sir, please. I'm not allowed. I can't. Really, I'd love to keep her, but…I remembered..."

Bucky looked at Peter for a long time, concerned as to why he wouldn't be allowed to have a harmless cat live with him. But that meant that the boy had a place he lived in. That still didn't justify the fact that there was a real possibility that he was being treated badly at home, but he didn't want to push.

Instead he said, "Will I see you again?"

"You might." Peter shrugged.

Bucky thought for a moment, and wondered if it would be safe for the cat to stay with him. He had the money to provide the necessary food it needed, and the cat could just sleep beside him at night.

But he also wondered what would happen to Peter, since he seemed to be in such a rush for Bucky to take it, so in the end, he reluctantly agreed.

"Okay."

Peter looked up at the man, and there was something unrecognizable in the boy's eyes. Like he was screaming for help, trying to warn him about something, but that was forgotten as Bucky was handed Alpine.

His eyes instantly softened as he carried the fragile kitten in his arms, the soft fur rubbing gently just above his metal arm. Bucky carefully petted the cat as it purred, and he smiled the brightest he had ever smiled since getting out of HYDRA.

Peter petted the cat from in between his ears and whispered to her, "it's going to be okay Alpine… I'm sorry, but he's going to take care of you, I promise." He leaned over and whispered some more words that Bucky couldn't quite make out, but afterward, Peter straightened and looked at the new owner of Alpine.

He looked… conflicted, like he was having an internal battle with himself, and Bucky couldn't figure out what was going on. The more he thought he knew the kid, the more he got confused.

"Thank you," Peter said after a while, and he looked in pain to say it, but before Bucky could say anything back, the kid turned away and ran, not looking back.

Bucky watched him leave, a sort of emptiness entering him, but that left as Alpine meowed in his arms, and he could only hope that Peter would be okay. He turned and started walking back to his apartment.

"Let's go see your new home, Alpine."

* * *

Peter was given the task of somehow capturing the Winter goddamn Soldier. A malnourished fourteen-year-old kid, trying to fight a man with decades of experience and a metal arm. Yeah right.

That was supposed to be the plan; at least, that's what Zemo told him. Peter would somehow try and knock the Soldier unconscious and Taskmaster would bring both of them back to their stuffy hotel. It was easy peasy, wasn't it?

But as he walked through the streets of Bucharest trying to locate Barnes, he felt scared, terrified even.

Still, Zemo had forced him to wear dirty rags with his suit underneath should he need it, as well as his kind of fixed web-shooters attached to his wrists. The man had also rubbed dirt all over his head and face; to do what exactly, Peter didn't really know, but he supposed it was to make him look more like a homeless kid.

Peter didn't know what was going to happen, didn't know what he was going to expect; he didn't want to hurt anyone, certainly not someone who he thought was innocent. Barnes didn't deserve that kind of treatment, he didn't deserve to be treated like a war criminal when he was brainwashed and forced to commit the crimes he did.

He didn't think it was fair.

Peter also thought back on his memories. Memories of school, memories about Uncle Ben and Aunt May. It had been so long since he'd seen his friends and aunt; five whole months. His heart ached painfully and he felt treacherous tears well up in his eyes before he was interrupted by a soft "meow" by an overflowing garbage can in an alleyway.

Peter's ears picked up the sound easily and he followed where it had come from. He held his breath and nudged the garbage can backward, which revealed a small white kitten, maybe about six weeks old. He frowned as he knelt down, examining the cat for any injuries, but having found none except a small scratch behind one of her front legs, he let out a small smile.

It was an odd thing to do, to smile. He couldn't even remember the last time he had smiled; there was nothing to smile about for the past five months, save for the satisfaction he sometimes felt when he proved Taskmaster wrong.

Peter swatted away some flies and gently picked up the cat, watching her as she curled up in his arms.

"What happened, girl?" he whispered quietly, leaning forward towards her ear. "Where's your mama?"

Peter looked around, having not spotted or heard another cat in the alley. The mother cat must have died somewhere, and the poor kitten was probably looking for somewhere to hide. He sighed, petting her gently.

"You're gonna be okay, don't worry…" he said quietly, standing up, the cat still in his arms. "I'll take care of you, okay? You're safe…" Peter trailed off as he began walking.

The truth was, he didn't really know how to care for her. Zemo sure as hell wouldn't be any help, and would probably force him to get rid of the cat anyways. They didn't have the food she needed in order to survive. But still, Peter held onto hope that he would be able to keep her.

Peter hummed quietly as one of his hands petted the cat's underside. "Can I call you Alpine?" he asked her, as if he expected an answer, "I'll call you Alpine."

In response, Alpine purred and looked up at Peter, and he smiled.

They walked through the alley for a while, until Peter heard someone walking a little ways away from them, and he stopped. Alpine didn't seem to get why he stopped and jumped out of his arms.

"Alpine, what are you doing?" He hissed quietly, crouching down to go after her. Alpine's ears shot up and she tilted her head before running off.

Peter sighed, frowning as he stood back up. It's not like he thought that she would stay with him forever, he just thought that maybe she'd stay a bit longer.

He heard the same meow again, though, before hearing small steps indicating that Alpine continued running. Peter moved to run out the alleyway to go find her before he stopped short as he saw who was in front of him.

James Barnes.

The Winter Soldier.

It was this moment, the one he had been training for the last five months. To find him and bring him to Zemo. It all led up to this, and he was frozen in place as he stared at him.

Barnes looked at him with a confused expression as Peter's eyes darted from him to Alpine, who was disappearing into a corner. He held his breath as he tried to move towards him, but instead, he took two steps back, shaking his head as he looked down.

Peter didn't know what to do. A part of him wanted to get the job done, so he can go back home. Home to his family and friends and school. But a part of him didn't want to get Barnes hurt, because this was an innocent man. A man holding a bag of plums.

He was innocent. He didn't know what Zemo was planning on doing to him, but he knew it wasn't anything good.

Apparently he had stayed silent for too long because Barnes asked him a question in a language that he didn't understand. Peter tilted his head slightly, looking up at him.

He watched as the man looked around, for what, Peter didn't know. He tried to take advantage of that and took a step backward before turning to run away.

"Wait," Peter heard Barnes say, and he froze and turned around, facing him.

It was an awkward silence for a while, with Barnes' hands held up in what Peter supposed was a sign of peace, and he quietly spoke, in German: "I'm hungry. That was my cat."

He wasn't perfect at the language, but he knew that he was near pretty good at it. The man seemed to understand and nodded, speaking in the same language.

"It's okay."

It was in a soft sort of tone, and Peter watched as Barnes knelt down and opened his bag, and held out a plum in his hands.

"Here."

Peter looked at it strangely, confused as to why he would offer him food, before cautiously taking it and putting it in his pocket. He looked at the man, who only shrugged. He looked down again.

"What's your name, kid?"

Peter shrugged, avoiding his gaze. He could feel Barnes' eyes boring into him, and even though it made him incredibly uncomfortable, his senses never warned him of anything.

Which meant that he was safe. Barnes was okay, he wasn't dangerous.

"Bucky."

Peter looked up at him confused, tilting his head to the side, before realizing that he meant it as a name.

Bucky Barnes.

He supposed it was a nickname. Bucky Barnes. It rolled off the tongue, and it seemed that the man was waiting for some sort of response.

"...Bucky," Peter repeated slowly, nodding gently as he offered a small smile to Barnes. Bucky smiled and made a soft humming noise at the back of his throat, letting out a sigh.

Bucky Barnes.

"Do you want me to help you look for your cat?"

Peter scowled internally from the way that Barnes was talking to him. He wasn't a baby, and yet here he was being spoken to like one. He couldn't really blame him, though. He looked like a mess and by the amount of weight he had lost since meeting Zemo, he would have guessed he didn't really look like his age.

He only shrugged again, playing with a thread on his long sleeve shirt. Peter felt awkward, shy if you want to call it that. Scared, definitely; he was expected to somehow knock out a man twice the size as him and most likely three times stronger than him. It was a terrifying thought, and he didn't want to hurt Bucky.

"I'm not a baby…" Peter mumbled to himself self consciously, frowning as he looked up at Barnes.

Bucky gave him a surprised look and had a small smirk on his lips. "You could've told me you spoke English too."

Peter only shrugged again, looking down, but not before noticing Barnes' frown as he patted his back. He was led out of the alleyway and onto the streets, and they began looking for Alpine.

It was a comfortable silence for a while, and Peter thought about how he was going to accomplish this task. He could've punched him, webbed him up, and called it a day, Maybe that's what he should've done, but instead, he continued walking with him, because his presence was comforting.

In truth, he didn't want to hurt Bucky. Knowing his nickname seemed like an intimate thing, like maybe they had bonded and weren't strangers to each other. Peter was conflicted with himself, and he didn't know what to do.

He should've just done what Zemo told him to do so that he could go back home, but instead, he stayed with Bucky.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks again MpeachlinS for betaing the story!

* * *

"You still haven't told me your name," Barnes said after a few minutes as they walked through the streets of Bucharest. Peter kept an eye for anything soft and furry, hoping to find Alpine and hoping that she wasn't in any danger.

Peter kept silent, his head down low. Bucky continued, "you don't have to," he reassured him, "it would just be helpful to know."

Peter looked at him for a long time, trying to figure out what he should tell the man. He wanted to tell Barnes, he really did, but he didn't know what would happen if he did…

"I'm Peter," he finally said quietly, looking down again, "you can call me Peter."

Bucky smiled, patting his back, "nice to meet you, Peter."

Peter nodded, and the two walked together for a while longer, the silence resting uncomfortably between them. He made conversation- or, well, try to; he kept on opening his mouth only to shut it back up again. But it was neat, he felt safe when he was with Barnes. Like no one would be able to hurt him.

His senses rang, telling him that a sort of danger was nearby. Peter looked around wildly but found nothing, only Bucky who was staring at him with a confused expressed. He supposed it was just an error, but his senses would never fail him, even if he was starving.

The prickling sensation continued and it was beginning to bother Peter, who was starting to scratch his neck and arm to try and distract himself. He looked around a bit more, and that was when he noticed someone in the far distance. It was so far, that Peter was grateful he had enhanced eyesight.

Taskmaster was watching him from afar, with a pair of binoculars hanging over his eyes.

Peter frowned, thinking that his senses would diminish, but instead, it kept going, and it felt like his skin was going to burst into flames. He always hated being around Taskmaster, hated when he mocked him and laughed in his face. It wasn't fair, but then again, most of his life isn't.

He accidentally looked at the skull fanatic for too long and he quickly looked away, his face pale and terrified. He didn't want to go back. Not back. He wanted to stay with Bucky and Alpine.

He wanted to be with Aunt May, curled up beside her as they watched crappy television together and eat ice cream. He wanted to hang out with Ned and finish building their Lego Stark Tower.

The memories were starting to fade, and Peter hated it. Once, when it was dark and Zemo was saying odd words in the bathroom, he had laid on the cold floor thinking about his life five months ago. He was forgetting Ben's laugh, forgetting about how much fun he used to have when they went for ice cream every time he aced a test.

Peter was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a quiet meow, by an abandoned building.

Sure enough, he saw a white, curled up cat laying down on the sidewalk, and he ran forward.

"Alpine!"

Peter knelt down and petted her, smiling brightly as she looked up and nuzzled his hand. He gently picked Alpine up, whispering soothing words into her ear as he hugged her close. He knew that Barnes was probably watching him, but he didn't care. Alpine had provided him that little comfort that he had yearned for the past five months.

"You're okay, Al," he whispered into her ear quietly, petting Alpine between the ears, "you're safe, but I can't take care of you, okay? Mister… Mister Barnes will look after you. He's a great man."

Alpine looked up at him and had Peter known better he would've thought that she looked rather sad. He reassured her with a gentle pat on the head before standing up, looking at Bucky.

"You can have her, sir."

Bucky looked at him confused, frowning as he replied, "she's yours."

"I can't take care of her," Peter said quietly, a small sad smile gracing his lips as he continued petting Alpine. "She probably won't last long if she's with me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't have anything... I don't have any supplies, food… I can't, I can't…"

A short silence fell, and Peter avoided his gaze, before Bucky said, "You can stay at my place for a while. I have food, I have room-"

"Sir, please," he felt bad for interrupting but he couldn't risk putting Alpine into a bad home, "I would love to keep her, really I would, but I can't… I remembered…" he trailed off.

"Will I see you again?"

Probably, Peter thought to himself, if I do my task correctly next time, "You might."

And another silence fell between them.

It unnerved Peter, as the world passed by around them. Unnerved him but he felt calmer whenever he petted Alpine.

Finally: "Okay."

Peter looked up at him again, furiously fighting away the tears in his eyes. He promised himself he'd never cry unless he was alone, but hearing him say that, hearing him say that the man would be okay with taking care of Alpine, it made him happy. Like he was finally doing a good thing in his life.

But he knew he had to go back. He failed the task; he was supposed to bring Bucky back to Zemo, and he failed. He couldn't bring him back, even if he wanted to. They were innocent. But Peter will be forced to do something anyway, he always was.

He didn't know what was going to happen, but he knew he was keeping Barnes and Alpine safe; that's all that mattered.

Peter gently put Alpine into Bucky's arms, and he watched as the man's expression softened with each passing second he was holding the cat. Peter smiled as he petted her again behind the ears, and whispered quiet words into her ear, reassuring her that everything was going to be okay.

Peter supposed he was saying that mostly to himself because he wasn't sure if cats really understood humans, but it brought him a sense of comfort, so it didn't matter.

"Thank you," he said softly, looking at Barnes one more time before his senses yelled at him, and he took off, dreading what would happen once he came back to Zemo.

* * *

"I wasn't aware that he changed the plan," Taskmaster remarked as Peter caught up to him, panting and sweating.

The teen looked up, glaring at him while bending down to catch his breath. "He didn't," he said after a while, making a face at the feeling of his suit sticking to his skin.

Mister Skull Man looked at Peter, who shrunk back. From the five months he had gotten to know him, he had learned how to read his expressions—or rather, his lack of expressions.

"You disobeyed him?" He heard a tone of annoyance and perhaps disappointment, definitely anger. Peter inwardly flinched and took a small step back.

"I…"

The tension hung in the air between them as Taskmaster led Peter back to the hotel, using a series of alleyways to try and be discreet.

Peter didn't mind it, really. It was a nice change from the demanding, nit-picky prick that he had gotten to know over the last five months. On the other hand, he felt awkward and ashamed of himself for having failed, because now he wasn't going to be able to go back home, where he belonged.

Not here, not Romania.

Queens.

That wasn't the case, obviously, but he'd like to believe it was. It was kinda hard though, given the fact that you're in the same room as a skull man and an asshole jerk.

It was fine, he didn't mind it all that much.

"I trained you to be better, look where it got you."

"Sorry?"

"Trained you to be better. Stronger. Yet you can't even bring yourself to knock out the Winter Soldier. You gave him a cat."

Peter looked away— he's doing that a lot lately— and frowned, wrapping his arms around his middle to try and comfort himself.

"He's innocent," he blurted out, cursing his idiotic brain, "I didn't want to."

Taskmaster seemed to glare at Peter, his senses blaring at him to run away or defend himself. He cringed, shrinking away from the Halloween fanatic.

Maybe Peter thought he was going to be hit, maybe not, but he wasn't.

"Pathetic."

Peter looked up at him. "At least I don't copy other people's moves," he said quietly, venom seeping into his words. Taskmaster ignored him and they continued walking,

Pathetic.

It was one word, yet Peter felt so affected by it, like it had stabbed his heart.

He had tried so hard to resist the urges to somehow protect Barnes for just a while longer, no doubt Zemo would know and most likely go after him himself. But his heart and his moral code wouldn't let him; couldn't let him.

Peter hated it, he hated it, he hated it. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, like the taste of bile, and he felt disappointed in himself for not completing the task.

It was so simple, he'd be able to leave, but he was idiotic and stupid and his heart got the better of him.

He hated it.

As they finally reached the hotel, Taskmaster disappeared in his usual style; by throwing a smoke bomb onto the ground. Peter awkwardly went inside the hotel and checked in before going into the elevator.

He walked into Zemo's hotel room to find a sticky note on a wall, reading: _Gone to do something. I'll talk to you when I'm done._

_That's ominous,_ Peter thought to himself.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks again MpeachlinS for betaing the story!

I might not update for a while because I haven't written the next part yet, and also because I'm still in school so I don't have as much time to write as I normally did. I also usually wrote my stories using goohle docs on my iPhone but since it broke I had to get a Samsung, and I'm still getting used to the layout of the letters. I'll try to get a chapter out by Monday or Tuesday though!

* * *

Maybe it was a bad idea, looking back at it. Maybe he should've just done what he was supposed to do, and then call it a day; fly back to New York, see May again. See his friends again.

Peter twirled a pencil around aimlessly, looking out from the window. He just had a shower, washing off all the dirt that was on him and changed into some old comfortable clothing that Taskmaster looked for in a lost and found bin. Zemo still hadn't come back; maybe he regretted recruiting a teenager to do his dirty work for him.

He called in a bowl of fruit from room service and chatted with the kind woman for a while. He didn't really know what he was supposed to be doing; if he was supposed to be working on something or if he was just supposed to sit around and wait for Zemo to come back.

So Peter sighed, standing up and moving to a desk. He turned on the lamp and grabbed his suit from the bathroom, making a face at the smell before sitting down onto a chair.

That's what he did while he waited; he worked on his suit. Peter used a needle and thread to fix any rips or scrapes, and also made sure the GPS and his web-shooters were working smoothly.

While Peter worked, he munched on some strawberries while he let his thoughts wander around from place to place. He found himself smiling at times when he thought of memories in the past, memories of May and Ned and Liz…

Huh, he almost forgot about her. Peter hummed quietly as he stitched up a rip. Maybe she was thinking about him, wondering where he was…

Probably not, actually. She's the popular type, probably didn't even know he existed.

He wondered how May was doing, wondered if she was worried at all. Peter assumed that she was; even before he had been taken, she had always been a worrywart, especially after Ben died. He hoped that she was okay, that she was healthy and happy.

He should've finished the task.

He should've, and he failed because of his stupid moral code.

Peter heard the door open and inwardly sighed, not bothering to turn around. He frowned slightly as he heard Zemo's voice call out.

"Parker."

That's how he referred to him. Parker. Not Peter, not "kid," Parker.

"Hm?"

Peter listened intently as he heard Zemo walk closer to him. He didn't really mind, or at least tried not to show it by continuing to fiddle around with his suit.

"I thought we agreed on following the plan," Zemo said in a hard tone. Peter sighed and turned around to look at him.

"We did," he said slowly, crossing his arms self consciously.

"Then why did you not follow it?"

"He's innocent."

"I was being kind to you."

"Really?" Peter said incredulously, raising his eyebrows. He pushed his chair away from the desk, glaring at Zemo. "Threatening me so that I'd come to Romania was a kind thing?"

"It was either that or I let Masters kill you."

"Maybe you should've," he replied, standing up. "I don't see why Barnes is so important to you. Let him rebuild his life."

"I'm letting you do a good thing here, Parker," Zemo snapped, walking up close to the teen.

Peter took a small step back, wishing he hadn't talked back to him. He'd already failed, and he was already making things worse by making Zemo even more mad.

"A good thing? That's what you're calling it?" Peter didn't have any control over his words, he didn't have the ability to filter them. He just said the first thing that came out of his mouth in a frustrated rage. "Capturing Barnes, that's a good thing?"

"To avenge everyone who lost their lives," Zemo answered back, pushing Peter's shoulder. "Every innocent person who died that the Avengers couldn't save. Capture Barnes, get revenge."

Peter looked up at Zemo, his anger slowly softening. The confusion still stood, though; get revenge by capturing the Winter Soldier? How does that even work?

It made sense though, in a way.

"By making Barnes pull the Avengers apart?" Peter frowned, narrowing his eyes. "They can't save everyone, you know that."

Sure, it might have been a harsh thing to say, but they both knew it needed to be said. Zemo, however, fell silent for a moment, and Peter was confused as to how his words affected the man.

Maybe he said it too harshly; that had to be it. He was so used to just obeying the rules, letting people tell him what to do, and he probably just lashed out at the man. Maybe Zemo was going through grief.

It's a depressing motive, but it was still wrong.

"I'll capture him myself, then," Zemo began slowly, making his way closer to the teen. "Have him hurt your little aunt himself, how does that sound?"

"Don't," Peter said, shaking his head, trying to ignore his words and the different ways things could go wrong. He couldn't believe him, he shouldn't. "She doesn't deserve it."

"Maybe not her, but you certainly do. See how you like it, watching your loved ones scream in pain as they die, and you. Just being forced to watch."

"You won't do it," Peter said quietly, mostly to reassure himself and calm himself down. "You won't."

"You can avoid this, Parker." Zemo kept eye contact with the teen, his voice even. "Just do as I say, and you can go home."

Peter looked down, running his fingers through his hair.

It wasn't fair, none of this was fair.

None of this was okay, he shouldn't have to be in Romania worrying about capturing people. He should've been in school right now; his first day was two days ago.

Oh god, his first day was two days ago.

He missed his summer. He missed the competition in Robotics Club. He missed his first homecoming. Granted, Peter probably wouldn't have had a date anyway, but it was still heartbreaking to think about.

He missed freshman year, he missed... He missed May's birthday.

His aunt probably stayed home alone, wondering where her nephew was.

He missed so much. He missed so much yet he didn't even stop to think about the effect it might have had on other people.

Peter took a deep, shuddering breath before looking back up at Zemo, finding hesitant determination in himself.

"What do you want me to do?"

* * *

Bucky Barnes went to the marketplace three days later, paying the vendor and thanking her for a bag of plums. He walked over to another vendor and paid him ten leu for dried cat food. As it turns out, plums were poisonous to cats, and he was thankful that he had looked it up first.

He looked around for a bit, wandering around the market and offering small smiles to the few who chose to make eye contact with him. Bucky didn't really know what he was looking for, but he had hoped to see Peter while he was walking today.

He sighed quietly, shaking his head. The kid had probably forgotten him by now, probably doesn't even remember meeting Alpine. The dark part of his mind suggested that Peter was trapped somewhere, perhaps in an abusive home, or maybe he was recruited as a child soldier.

Bucky almost laughed at the thought. No, Peter was too kind, smart enough to avoid scenarios like that. Probably smarter than Steve, that's for sure.

He smiled to himself as he took one last scan around the marketplace, and that's when he saw it.

Someone was looking at him from a magazine stand, and as Bucky turned to look at him, confused, his face turned into one of recognition, and the man widened his eyes and ran away.

Bucky frowned suspiciously, walking over to the stand. He moved around a pile of magazines before he saw the newspaper that the man had been reading, the title being:

Winter Soldier Searched for Bombing UN Vienna.

He flipped the page over, reading the paragraphs over and over again, the writer claiming that he had killed the king of Wakanda. Bucky felt his heart beat faster and he felt a sort of anger in him.

Well, not really anger. He associated that word towards the Winter Soldier. More like… sad felt more like it. Like he felt that he'd never get a chance at an ordinary life again.

He knew he hadn't done anything, though. That was the thing. He didn't remember anyone saying the trigger words; he would remember if someone did.

Someone framed him, claimed that it was him, and now he was in danger.

He looked around, crumpling up the newspaper before running off to his apartment.

* * *

"You're Steve."

Bucky looked up at Captain America, who had somehow gotten into his apartment. He petted Alpine before placing her out of the room, urging her to go outside.

Panic ran through Bucky's mind as he set down his plastic bag, looking at his friend. He had no idea how he had found him, but he was determined to get him out. He wasn't part of this. He couldn't be.

"I know you," he continued quietly, trying to act dumb. "I read about you in a museum."

Steve stared at him, a set look on his face as he put Bucky's notebook down. His instinct was to grab it out of his hands, but he felt like he was rooted on the ground.

"I know you're nervous," Steve interrupted, making Bucky think back on their teasing times back when things weren't so… complex. "You have every reason to be. But you're lying."

Bucky looked at him guiltily, even though he knew it wasn't him. It felt like it was, in a way. Everyone thought it was him, and it felt like he did it himself.

He hesitated before saying, "I wasn't in Vienna. I don't do that anymore."

Steve looked to his right before answering, "well the people who think you did are coming here now, and they're not planning on taking you alive."

"That's smart," Bucky said, giving him an empty smile. "Good strategy." He took a small step back and fiddled with his glove.

Steve moved his head again, frowning. "This doesn't have to end in a fight, Buck."

Bucky looked up at him before looking away again, shaking his head as he took off his glove. "It always ends in a fight."

Steve began to speak more urgently, his tone rising. "You pulled me from the river," he said, taking a step towards him. "Why?"

"I don't know."

It was weird when he did that; the first good thing he had done for 70 years. It was strange, especially when it was because he saved his best friend from drowning. He had been confused for a long time, before he finally organized his memories together.

"Yes, you do."

Bucky stared at him before a window broke, a small bomb tumbling in front of him. He kicked it towards Steve, who concealed the explosion by placing his shield on top of it.

More cops barged into the room, and Bucky shielded himself with his mattress before knocking some of them out.

Steve fought alongside him, knocking out a guard coming in from the balcony. Bucky ran over there to jump off, but he grabbed his arm.

"Buck, stop!" He shouted. "You're gonna hurt someone!"

Bucky's heart dropped when he realized that even his best friend thought that he was dangerous. He shoved him onto the floor before punching the floorboard, grabbing his backpack.

"I'm not gonna hurt anyone."

They worked together as they went through more and more German soldiers before Bucky found himself an opening in a hallway and made a run for it, jumping off the balcony and onto a nearby roof.

Bucky winced as he hit the ground, before getting up and grabbing his backpack as he ran. He didn't dare look back; unfortunately, he got tackled from behind. He tucked and rolled, coming to a stop sprawled on his back.

He looked up to see who his attacker was, and saw someone with a sleek black costume with sharp looking claws and cat ears. If it wasn't a tense situation, he would've laughed, but instead, he scrambled away from the mysterious person.

Bucky gasped as he dodged the attacks, already being pushed into a wall. He twisted around and grabbed a metal pipe, trying to stop the person's claws from scratching his face off. He was impressed by the amount of strength the guy had, and he probably would've died if it weren't for the helicopter that began shooting at them.

The unknown person looked up distractedly at the helicopter as his armor deflected the bullets away from him as Bucky looked up and saw a man with mechanical wings fly over. He went after the helicopter, causing it to veer off course. As it began falling, a teen dressed in a red and blue suit looked at his German companions before saluting them.

"Wir sehen uns auf der anderen Seite," Peter called before he attached a web onto the building and swung out of the helicopter.

He kicked the man in the cat costume off of Bucky before webbing Captain America's shield and yanking it towards himself.

In truth, he almost geeked out when his hands touched the shield, but he remembered that he was here for a reason. Steve looked at his empty hands in shock as the weird bird man raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Hi everyone," Peter said in a poorly executed british accent before Bucky blocked the shield that he threw at him.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks again MpeachlinS for betaing the story!

* * *

"Who the hell is that?" Mister Bird Man yelled out to Mister America, who shrugged, catching his shield when Barnes threw it back at him.

"I don't know, we'll find out."

Peter almost laughed as he lunged towards Bucky, using his spider senses to predict and dodge the man's attacks. Barnes went forward to punch the teen but looked at him in awe as Peter merely caught his fist without effort.

Peter smiled proudly at himself at the thought that he might actually win this battle, and webbed Bucky onto the ground. He turned to deal with the other guys, waving to Barnes.

"Stay down-"

Mister Wannabe Bird grabbed him by the collar and flew into the sky, and the teen gasped, trying to pull away from the man.

"Not cool-" Peter clawed at his throat, trying to get oxygen into his lungs as he continued struggling to get out of Birdie's grasp. Eventually, he was let go, and he felt himself falling. He was about to splat face-first onto the ground when he caught himself with his web and swung back up to the fight.

"That was unnecessary." Peter heard Rogers say as he ran towards Bucky, who had managed to rip off his webbing and was blocking Mister Furry's attacks.

He didn't hear Mister Bird's response as he swung down, kicking his leg out to catch him in the ankle, making Bucky's opponent fall to the ground. He shot to his feet and turned to his target before he webbedBarnes to the wall. Unfortunately, Mister Cat tackled Peter from behind and the two rolled a few feet before the teen managed to untangle himself from the man's hold. He stood and started blocking the unrelenting blows.

Peter tripped over his feet when he tried to dodge a particularly nasty kick. He was trying to figure out where his weak spot could be, but he lost focus when a clawed hand flew toward his face. He tried to block it, but the next thing he knew, he felt his mask ripping and his cheek was burning as one of the claws sliced through his skin.

Peter touched his face tenderly, looking at his fingers, which had a small amount of blood on them from the wound. It would heal quickly, of course, he would just have to endure the pain for a bit longer. He kicked Hello Kitty away from him, webbing him to the ground before he turned and chased after Barnes, who was quickly getting away, his backpack in his arms as he ran toward the edge of the building.

"This wasn't the plan," Peter mumbled to himself as he ran towards Bucky, wincing as he heard another helicopter approaching them. He had almost gotten to Barnes when he felt something hit him in the back, knocking the wind out of him as he fell forward. He felt one of his ribs crack as he screamed in pain.

He then heard Mister America run past him, grabbing his shield before jumping off the building to catch up with his friend.

"Bastard," Peter choked out, his breathing coming out in wheezes as he stood back up. He clutched his side as he jumped off the building and caught himself with his webs. The pain in his side made him let go too early and he had to tuck and roll across the ground so that he didn't hurt himself more.

He was fine. It was nothing he couldn't handle. He had gotten tons of bruised and cracked ribs from Taskmaster when they were training and sparring, it was just that it was hard to fully function or breathe when it happened. Peter got up after a few seconds and gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to pass out as he began swinging towards them.

"Right behind you, Cap." He heard Birdie call out from behind him, and he swung lower to the ground for better momentum and to avoid coming into contact with him.

Peter finally had Barnes in his sights, and he slowed down so he could catch up with a vehicle close to him. Coincidentally he landed on top of the car with Mister Rogers driving and Mister Furry attached to it, and he moved to try and kick the mystery man off.

"I can't wait for us to stop fighting so we can talk about how awesome your suit is," Peter commented casually before giving it one final kick, making Kitty fall off. He held onto the roof of the car as he crouched down, ready to jump onto Barnes at any moment.

"Sam." He heard Mister America say from inside the car. "I can't shake him."

He tightened his grip when Rogers started to crash into other cars in an attempt to shake him off. He was holding onto the roof so tightly that it began to bend and wrinkle. Peter attempted to stabilize his breathing, feeling dizzy as he held on for dear life, cursing Mister America's bad driving.

Bucky continued running until Peter heard a motorcycle driving by. He watched in awe as Barnes pushed the driver off of the bike and got onto it himself. Peter prepared to jump off Steve's car when it drove up behind the motorcycle.

He leapt off the car and swung towards Bucky, prepared to grab him by his shirt when he was grabbed around the neck by his target. Peter gasped for breath and moved his body back as he tried to push him off the bike, but instead, Barnes simply threw him back onto the road.

He yelped when he hit the asphalt and tried to roll out of the way of oncoming traffic. As soon as he was able, he jumped to his feet and grabbed onto a passing car.

"Shit," he muttered to himself, rubbing his throat lightly as he looked around for Barnes. He watched as Hello Kitty managed to grab onto Sam's foot before he spotted his target. He smiled and began swinging toward the man.

His eyes widened when Bucky pulled out a grenade. He let go of his web and rolled to a stop before he turned and swung away from the explosion and debris. Mister Furry jumped over Peter and scratched open the motorcycle's tires, making Bucky fall off the bike.

Mister Rogers' car began flipping towards them, with Steve jumping out and catching up to them. Peter began chasing Hello Kitty and jumped over him, only to feel an excruciating pain in his leg as the man dug his claws into his skin.

He cried out in agony, managing to latch a web onto a pillar. He launched himself toward the top and held onto it tightly, watching as Steve pushed Mister Furry off of Barnes.

Peter heard the sound of sirens nearing, and he nearly screamed again from the blinding lights and deafening noises. They thankfully stopped, and a bulky grey Iron Man like suit flew down beside the group.

"Stand down. Now."

Soldiers ran out of the cars and aimed their guns at the group, followed by Birdie getting pushed in towards Steve, his wings retracting.

Peter felt an ache in his heart as he watched Bucky get pushed down and handcuffed with the others.

"Congratulations, Cap. You're a criminal."

Shit, he was supposed to bring Barnes back to Zemo. How in the hell was he supposed to do that now? He cursed his stupidity as he continued watching the scene play out, clutching the wound on his leg in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Hello Kitty finally took off his mask to reveal a pretty ordinary-looking man, though Peter finally recognized him as the prince of Wakanda. He was in the news and his father died in the bombing that Zemo had set up. He looked down, sighing.

"Your highness." Mister Wannabe Iron Man said, and Peter looked up to continue watching.

Steve looked at Peter with narrowed eyes before looking away, sighing. Peter tilted his head before attaching a web towards another pillar. One of the soldiers at the back looked at him, though.

"Who are you?" The soldier asked quietly, looking suspicious of them.

"I just helped you arrest them, dude. Give me some credit here. Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man? That ring any bells?"

Before he gave them a chance to start shooting at him too, he saluted and took off, trying to shake off the guilt he felt.

He didn't feel very friendly.

Peter went to a secluded alleyway where he had hid a backpack and sat down with his back against a wall, breathing heavily and clutching his side. He wrapped his wounded leg with his webbing, hoping that it would stop the bleeding long enough for him to get bandages from the hotel room. The wound on his face was already healing and closing up, so he stood up and took off his suit. He wiped the sweat off his face, accidentally smearing the blood and changed into the clothes inside the bag before he walked to the hotel.

* * *

He walked in the hotel room, keeping his head down to avoid concerned eyes from the staff. Peter saw that there was a fresh pair of clothes on the desk that he worked on, but before he could open his mouth, Zemo walked in and commented: "Took you long enough."

Peter scrunched up his nose as he saw glasses on the man's face, and took off his mask. That was a bad decision, since the dried blood made the suit stuck to his skin. He winced when he ripped part of the scab off. He grimaced before he set down the mask on the desk.

"I didn't do it properly."

Silence.

"You did it perfectly."

"But I thought-"

"I changed my mind."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Peter frowned, clearly ticked off from being lied to.

Zemo simply shrugged. "Put on those clothes."

Peter scowled, taking off his suit and wiping off the sweat as he put on a clean white shirt, careful not to get any blood on it. "I need some bandages." He headed towards the bathroom, but Zemo stopped him.

"I'll get it."

Peter looked at him strangely as he went to get a roll of bandages, ibuprofen, hydrogen peroxide and polysporin.

Peter looked at Zemo suspiciously before he began to gently clean off his face and leg off before applying a bandage around the wound on his leg to help absorb the blood.

After he got rid of most of the blood from his face injury he applied a thin coat of polysporin on it before downing a handful of small advil tablets and finishing a water bottle.

"Eat in the car."

Zemo put a bowl of fruit onto Peter's hand and dragged him into a small rental car, carrying a binder.

"This is nice," Peter commented offhandedly, nibbling on a strawberry.

It was an awkward silence for a while.

"Can we go to McDonald's?"

"No."

"Where are we going?"

"Berlin."

"That's a day away."

"Which is why we are going to an airport."

"Oh."

Peter blew a raspberry, tapping his foot as he looked out the window. He wondered if Bucky had recognized him. Probably not, but there was still that possibility.

"Are you okay?"

Peter looked at Zemo in surprise. He had never once asked him if he was okay, and now here he was acting like a nurse. Deciding against smart talking him, though, he merely shrugged.

"I guess."

"You're favoring your left side."

"My rib is healing."

"Do you need a doctor?"

"You're not my dad, dude. Stop acting like you care."

It was silent for the rest of the trip as Zemo handed Peter his fake passport.

The flight was uneventful, but Peter took advantage of the food cart, eating whatever Zemo would buy him, eager to heal faster. He slept for some of the flight and woke up to the man muttering random words to himself, and he frowned, looking at him.

"What are we gonna do?"

"I'm a psychiatrist. You're my intern. We're gonna talk to Barnes."

"Is that why you have those stupid glasses on?"

Silence.

"Okay, sorry."

Silence.

"Where's Taskmaster?"

"Gone. We don't need him anymore. Besides, some new organization hired him to train their recruits."

"Oh."

Silence.

"Once you've done this.. Once you're done with this disguise, I'm going home. Right?"

"Yes."

"...okay."

They arrived at Berlin two hours later, and got a cab to drive them to their destination. Peter's wound on his face was completely gone now, replaced by a light pink scarring on his cheek. It was easier to breathe too, and it didn't hurt to walk every passing second.

They walked inside the airport building and were hit with cool air, which Peter appreciated immensely. Zemo led him toward a more secluded part of a building, but he managed to walk into Tony Stark.

Tony Stark.

Tony fucking Stark.

Peter was in a state of panic as he decided on whether or not to burst into complete fanboy mode, because it was Tony Stark we were talking about. In a split second he rationalized how it would technically make sense, since he's supposed to be an intern.

"Oh my god," he mumbled quietly, and Tony exasperatedly sighed, walking past him without looking at the teen.

"Hey to you too, random kid I've never met before," the man commented sarcastically.

Peter waved, his eyes gleaming with childish joy. "I'm such a huge fan, Mister Stark."

"I can tell," Stark narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked at Peter's face. "You alright?"

"Yeah."

"What's your name, kid?"

Peter hesitated. "Jax."

"Nice to meet you." He patted the teen's back. "Bye." Mister Stark left abruptly without the chance to even say goodbye.

Peter looked at him in awe and childish happiness at meeting his idol again. And getting a pat on the back, nonetheless.

He looked down, smiling lightly before catching up with Zemo.

"'Jax'?"

"I couldn't think of anything else, give me a break."

"You really can't think of anything else but Jax."

"Shut up."

Zemo looked at his phone and gestured Peter to follow him, and he sighed, reluctantly following his 'mentor' out of the airport.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks again MpeachlinS for betaing the story!

* * *

Zemo left Peter in a relatively empty room, presumably to grab something. The room had a window looking out towards Bucky, who was stuck in some sort of pod or chamber. Fold out chairs were leaning against plain cream walls and the unusual silence bothered the teen to no end. He could hear people walking upstairs without even having to strain his ears, it was horrible. The more he looked at Barnes, the more uncomfortable he felt, even though the man couldn't even see him.

He tried ignoring the stabbing guilt in his heart as he watched Barnes look around with such a painful expression, and eventually he couldn't look anymore, so he turned around.

Zemo had explained to Peter what he was going to do, something about speaking Russian to trigger Bucky back into his Winter Soldier state.

"So it's basically brainwashing." Peter had commented before they had entered the room he was currently in. Zemo kept silent when he left, and the teen looked around aimlessly.

It would all worth it, he was sure. In the end, it'd all be fine; he just had to accompany Zemo for this one last mission and then he was done. He could go home. Back to Queens.

Back to May.

God, he hoped May was okay. He really hoped she was okay. He hoped that she was at work chatting with her friends and had got together with a nice guy. He hoped that she was okay.

He'd do anything to make sure she was okay.

Peter sat down on an empty chair and put his head in his hands, letting out a shaky breath. May needed to be okay.

This was worth it. Sure, it was bad. But it was worth it.

It was so worth it.

He'd see his aunt again, his friends again. Mister Rogers could easily stop Barnes from destroying the world. They were best friends, weren't they? The avengers would figure it out on their own.

He ignored that one small part in his heart that told him to not go with the plan, to just run away and take the nearest flight back to New York. Peter wanted so badly to do that, but he didn't. He was patient, he had to be.

This was worth it. Bucky probably wouldn't even be able to recognize him, this was fine.

He was going to see his family-his friends, again.

That was all he could ever ask for.

Eventually, Zemo came back and motioned for Peter to follow him into the room that Barnes was contained in. The teen noticed cameras in each corner of the room and quiet chatter through the walls. He tilted his head away slightly to avoid Bucky's glance.

"Hello, Mister Barnes," Zemo greeted, placing down a binder and a small computer on a desk that was sitting in front of Bucky's pod. "I've been sent by the United Nations to evaluate you."

Silence.

"Do you mind if I sit?"

Zemo didn't wait for a reply before he sat down on the chair while Peter awkwardly stood beside him as he looked over his shoulder. Bucky didn't respond but he did look at the teen oddly, making Peter look away from him.

"This is my intern, Jax. He's just going to help me and possibly ask you a few questions himself."

Peter almost smirked at the man when he realized he used the name he introduced himself as to Mister Stark before Bucky spoke.

"I know you," he said roughly, as if he was trying to recall a distant memory. "I saw you in an alley. You gave me a cat."

Peter feigned a look of confusion, tilting his head and frowning at Barnes before looking back at Zemo, who was writing something on a piece of paper.

"Your first name is James?"

"I know you," Bucky repeated, his voice a tad bit louder than before. "You're Peter."

Peter heard muffled chatter from behind the mirrored window, and he took a tiny step back, slightly nudging Zemo. "I…"

"You must be remembering someone else," Zemo said. When he was met with silence, he spoke again. "I'm not here to judge you, only to ask a few questions."

Bucky stared at him blankly, and the look made Peter shiver.

"Do you know where you are, James?" Zemo asked. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James-"

"My name is Bucky," Barnes interrupted.

Zemo looked at him, frowning, tapping something on his screen before leaning forward again. Peter opened his mouth to ask the man something, but Zemo spoke over him.

"Tell me, Bucky… You've seen a great deal, haven't you?"

Silence.

And then: "I don't want to talk about it."

Peter felt a pang in his heart and he started to question whether or not this was worth it.

This was a man trying to rebuild his life and become himself again, he didn't really deserve this, did he?

"You fear that if you open your mouth, the horrors may never stop?"

Silence. Barnes looked at Zemo, an expression that Peter couldn't quite read properly.

"Don't worry." Zemo took off his glasses.

Peter watched as a message popped up on the man's screen, stating that a package had been delivered. He opened his mouth to ask him what it was about, but he got interrupted again.

"We only have to talk about one." Zemo pulled out a dull red book with a black star in the middle from his binder, taking off his glasses.

Peter narrowed his eyes to look at the book. His gut felt like it was sinking and he was starting to regret going along with this mission."Mister-"

The power went out abruptly, small sparks flying off the ceiling. Peter jumped, never having really grown out the phase of being scared of the dark. He heard panicked voices from behind the wall, but they were all jumbled together and he couldn't understand anything they were saying.

"What the hell is this?" Bucky snapped, looking up at Zemo, who only looked at him innocently. Peter tried grabbing onto Zemo's coat, only to have his fingers pried off, so he merely watched helplessly.

"Why don't we discuss your home?" Zemo asked, flipping through the pages of the old book. "Not Romania, certainly not Brooklyn. I mean, your real home." 

Zemo stood up and turned on a small flashlight, the only source of brightness beside the blaring red lights that bounced around the room. Barnes looked at him with widened eyes before he closed them, making a face as Peter looked at Zemo.

"Zhelaniye," he began, reading the words under the small light, smirking at Bucky. Peter looked at Zemo alarmed, trying to pull the man aside to try and reason with him.

He didn't deserve this. No one deserved this.

"Sir, I just think that maybe we should-"

"Rzhavyy," Zemo continued, pulling his arm away from the teen as he continued to step closer to Barnes' pod. Peter was panicked now, desperate to save his friend from going through this again- probably for the hundredth time.

"Sir, please-"

"Stop." Bucky said quietly, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes shut, and Peter felt his stomach twist as if a knife had been stuck into him. He tried to pull the book away from the man only to be pushed back without any effort.

"Semnadtsat."

"Stop." Barnes said louder, his metal arm forming a fist. His hand was shaking slightly as he looked up at Zemo.

"Rassvet."

Bucky screamed; a loud, heart wrenching scream that seemed to echo in the teen's mind as Peter backed up, startled as he watched him rip off his restraints.

"Stop-"

"Pech." Zemo looked up at Peter but darted his eyes back to Barnes' pod. Upon seeing that the man was grunting as he punched the door continuously, trying to get out, he backed up, instead, circling around it.

Peter watched numbly as Bucky continued punching through the glass. That was all he could do. Zemo's voice felt muffled as he continued saying the string of Russian words, until eventually Barnes had finally gone through the door, landing on his knees.

And then it was silent.

Zemo looked at Bucky curiously as he walked closer to him.

Barnes stared at Peter; a blank, unmoving stare that unsettled the teen. It felt like with every passing second was less and less time for him to get away, but he was frozen to his spot. He backed up slightly, in fear of what the man might be capable of doing to him. He gulped quietly, looking up at Zemo, who stepped in front of the other man. Bucky stood up, facing him.

"Soldat?" He said quietly.

Bucky stood up. "Gotov soblyudat."

"Mission report, December 16, 1991."

Peter stepped forward with uncertainty, unsure as to whether or not he should run away or continue going along with Zemo. He didn't want to- hell, he refused to do so. He couldn't deal with this.

He needed to fix this. He should've bolted when he had the chance.

Well, that's what he tried to do; he ran towards the closest exit but Barnes caught him by his throat, his metal arm squeezing his neck tightly. Peter gasped for breath and squirmed, kicking his feet around until Zemo said a phrase and Bucky set him down.

Peter fell onto the ground and took a deep breath, gently rubbing his neck as he sat up on his knees. Zemo commanded something else, and Barnes walked out of the room. Peter heard grunts and yells of pain and then silence, and he ran out to catch the man.

Unconscious security guards littered the hallway, slumped over and laying down in the middle of the floor. Peter almost thought they were dead, and the idea made him almost vomit, and then he saw Bucky walking back to the room.

"Bucky?" Peter called, stepping in front of him to try and stop the man in his tracks. He needed to bring him back. This wasn't Barnes.

It wasn't him. It couldn't be.

But Bucky only stared at him and pushed past the teen, walking back to the dark room.

Peter had no idea what to do. In his tasks, he was always so sure of what he had to do, what he should do. But no one told him what he was supposed to be doing, and he felt confused and lost and guilty.

This was his fault. He needed to fix this.

He had justified his choices, had told himself that this was okay. That at least he'd be happy once it was done. Now? His happiness wasn't worth it if people die or the Avengers get pulled apart because of him.

So he ran back into the room, only to have his senses flare at him, he felt a stab of cold in his neck, and then after that, it was darkness.

Peter felt himself hit the floor, heard a thud and then people shouting over each other, their voices seeming muddled together as he drifted in and out of consciousness. His head pounded and it hurt to keep his eyes open, hurt to move his head.

And then he flinched: a loud sound that seemed to come from his left erupted and his eyes snapped open, looking around for the source of the sound. Peter moved his head and saw a man that looked just like Mister Bird- Sam, wasn't it?- get thrown across the room. He shuddered, forcing himself to stand up.

The room felt like it was tilting, and his head felt like it was about to burst, but he crawled over to Sam after Barnes was distracted by Mister America.

"Please don't be dead, please…" Peter mumbled to himself, moving his fingers around the man's neck, finally finding a steady pulse. He let out a sigh of relief, opening and closing his fist to try and keep himself grounded and not give into a panic attack. Zemo was still there, he was sure of it, but that didn't matter right now because Mister Sam woke up quickly.

"Easy," Peter said quietly, helping him sit up. Birdie looked at him oddly and backed away from before noticing Zemo.

"Hey!" Sam stood up, running after the man, and Peter frustratedly pulled at his hair, trying to make sense of the situation.

He had heard a loud thud while he was checking to see if Mister Bird was okay, so he stood up to look for the source of the sound. He stumbled around at first, but the dizziness started to leave him and he found his bearings.

Peter reached the elevator and saw that Mister Rogers was stuck at the bottom of the shaft. He looked unconscious, and the teen looked around before putting on his web-shooters which were in his pockets. He shot a handful of web down to attach itself to Steve, and eventually, Peter felt sure enough of himself to start hoisting the man up.

By the end of it, Peter wasn't sure if he could feel himself move, but he managed to get Rogers all the way back up to the top, and it kinda helped when he had woken up. Kinda.

"You-"

"I'd love to introduce myself to you, Mister Captain America sir, but there seems to be a bigger problem here."

Steve looked at him strangely, as if he was putting a puzzle together before he simply nodded and ran off to catch up to the rest of his team. Peter followed suit, only because he wanted to find Zemo.

He ran up the stairs, trying to figure out where he might have gone. Peter remembered that they had gone down a set of stairs, so he must've gone outside or into the lobby. He quickly ran up the stairs and pushed himself through the crowds of people, finally making his way outside the building.

Unfortunately, Zemo was nowhere to be found, and Peter saw Sam again, standing in the crowd.

"You again?"

"Where is he?"

Birdie rolled his eyes and pushed past him, heading back into the building. "Go home."

"I would if I could," Peter called out to him bitterly, crossing his arms. He sighed and jumped up, trying to see above the sea of heads.

He grumbled defeatedly until he heard the sound of a helicopter starting up, and he ran back into the building, clambering up the steps as fast as he could. Peter reached the roof, breathing heavily as he spotted Mister Rogers struggling to bring the helicopter back onto the roof. Upon closer inspection he saw that the pilot was Barnes, so he attached webs onto it and started pulling along with Steve.

Steve shot a grateful and shocked look at the teen before Bucky unexpectedly let go of the controls, letting the helicopter go backward and land toward them. Peter reacted quickly, though. He ducked under the spinning blades and pulled Rogers away, saving him from being shredded to pieces.

"You okay?"

"Yeah-"

Barnes' metal arm punched through the glass window and grabbed hold of Steve's throat, and Peter started panicking. He frantically attached more webs and started pulling with all his might, only to find out that the man was actually pushing the helicopter off.

"What the-"

His webs detached, and he watched as Steve, Barnes, and the helicopter all fell off the building and into the water. Peter ran over to the edge and looked down, hoping that they were okay. He considered diving down there to see if they were still alive, but before he could do that, two heads resurfaced.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief, almost bursting into tears as he too jumped off and swung over toward them, perching on the branch of a tree as Rogers pulled Barnes out of the water and onto the shore. He hopped off, walking towards them.

Once Steve had placed Bucky on the shore and both of them checked if he was still breathing, he spoke, "We fought you earlier."

Peter took a reluctant nod, drawing a messy picture onto the sand. "Mm."

"Why?"

"I was told to."

"By the doctor?"

Peter shrugged, getting rid of the drawing.

"Why'd you do it?"

"I wanted to go home."

"Where are you from?"

Peter stared at him, frowning, and Steve nodded in an understanding manner.

"Your name is Jax?"

"Peter."

"Look what I found," Sam called out, the book in his hands. He was walking along the shore, a small black eye forming on his face. "Figured you'd be here. The doctor left this book on the desk." He handed the book to Steve. "Is he okay?" He gestured to Barnes.

Peter nodded, shrugging. Steve frowned as he read over the words, until he got to one specific page.

December 16, 1991.

He closed the book quickly, looking at Bucky and then back to Peter.

"Why are you here, kiď?" Sam almost scowled at him, and Peter was about to scowl back.

"I can help," Peter said quietly.

"Sorry to break it to you, but this is big boy stuff we're dealing with, alright?"

"You don't think I know that?"

"Go home. I'll even call in a cab for you."

"Guys," Steve said loudly, making both of them shut their mouths.

Peter rubbed his ear tenderly, frowning. "I'm serious. I can help you guys. As far as I know, you guys are the most wanted people in the world right now."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm a nobody here. I can help you, they won't be able to put me in whatever superhero prison they'll put you guys in; I'm a minor."

"Exactly. You're too young to be part of this mess," Rogers tried to reason with the teen, and Peter sighed.

"Fine," He turned to leave, but then looked back at them. "I can at least help you guys find a place to hide for now."

Birdie and Mister America looked at each other, considering the options.

"Please," Peter said. "It's the least I can do after what Zemo did to Barnes."

"Sure. Lead the way."


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks again MpeachlinS for betaing the story!

* * *

Peter led them to an abandoned warehouse; cold and dreary but pretty hidden from the rest of the city. Water dripped from the ceiling and he had an uneasy feeling around it but it was safe, for now.

Taskmaster and him, they looked for abandoned places sometimes. If they weren't able to rent out training areas, they'd go to empty buildings. Mister Halloween would bring his own set of equipment and they would go about their day.

The warehouse was a fixer-upper, but they could probably manage. Peter let the two do their own thing with Barnes while he looked around for semi-edible scraps in piles of trash and in nooks and crannies.

It looked like a place high school seniors would party in. Cigarettes littered the ground and there were a bunch of half-empty cans and plates of partially eaten food just hanging around. Peter frowned and picked up a paper plate filled with pepperoni pizza and picked off the mold, taking a small nibble of it and nodding.

It was good, better than good. From the smell of it-and it smelled horrible, like what a middle school boys locker room smelt like- a party must've happened here a few nights ago. He grabbed an off-brand half-empty can and took a sip, then spit it out.

Gross. Peter had thought that it was beer, he could've handled beer, but it was… he didn't even know what it was, it tasted horrible. The adults might like it, though, so he grabbed a few of the cans and plates and started walking back to where they were.

He almost tripped, his feet hitting a rock stuck inside the cement, and he steadied himself squeezing his eyes shut. Peter couldn't get Bucky's scream out of his head. It terrified him.

Scared him. Felt for him. He couldn't understand how much pain it must've been for the man to go through that, but it was so haunting. The fact that Barnes is still able to live with himself is unbelievable to Peter in itself, but he shook the thoughts away before they could darken.

This was worth it.

He would help them, and then he would head back home to where he belonged.

He'd wrap his arms around May and squeeze her tight, and they'd spend the day watching a crappy reality show. Or maybe they'd eat ice cream and Peter would excitedly talk about whatever new project he was up to while May would just fondly rolled her eyes.

Scenarios like that gave him hope. It made him happy, it made him think that, really, everything would be okay.

And it would.

It had to be.

So Peter walked back toward the group, they were talking, or… arguing? He couldn't really tell. Mister America's tone of voice made him sound angry all the time. It made him kinda afraid of him if he was being honest.

And then Barnes was speaking, and he lightened his steps so he could listen to the conversation.

"Who were they?" That was Steve. Peter frowned, wondering what he had missed while he had been out looking for food.

"Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history. And that was before the serum."

"They all turn out like you?" Sam asked.

"Worse."

Peter paled at the thought that there were people worse than Barnes' Winter Soldier. Still, he listened in. If he were to step in, they'd probably stop talking and treat him like he wasn't supposed to be a part of this.

To be fair, he really wasn't, but it was still frustrating since he knew that he could probably help.

He scratched his back as he continued listening.

"Could the doctor control them?" They must've been referring to Zemo.

"Enough."

"Said he wanted to see an empire fall."

"With these guys, he could do it."

Peter accidentally crumpled up a paper plate, making one of the half-eaten pizza slices fell onto the floor with a soft thump. He quickly picked it up, processing the information he had just overheard.

God, he had started all this. How the hell was he going to end it? He fumbled with the plate before standing back up, only to hear a set of footprints.

"If we call Tony…" Steve.

"No, he won't believe us."

"You sure about that, Birdman?"

Holy _shit_.

How the hell did Tony Stark find their location? Peter places his back firmly against a wall, holding his breath as he continued listening.

"Tony?"

"Rogers," Tony replied with some bitterness. "Barnes."

"Listen-"

"I believe you, Wilson."

"Huh?"

"I thought… I'm not sure what I thought. You guys need help."

"The Accords-"

"The Accords can kiss my ass." Peter watched as Mister Stark's shadow moved onto the opposite wall, and he sorta curled himself up to try and make himself more hidden.

"Where's the kid?"

"The kid?" Sam.

"Peter?" Steve.

"His name is Peter?" Sam.

"How do you know him?"

"I've been keeping tabs. Been MIA for five months."

"He's just a kid." Barnes.

Silence.

"I saw him a few days ago. I gave him a plum. He was nice, did I hurt him?"

Silence.

"How did you find us?" Steve.

Silence, then some shuffling.

"You put a tracker on some random kid you thought was Spider-Man." Sam.

"More or less."

Tracker?!

Peter, in a panic, dropped the food onto the floor and patted himself, feeling for a device that Stark could've planted on him.

No wonder he found them so fast, he should've known.

_Shit._

Footsteps. Peter looked around and jumped onto a frame under the ceiling perching above in hopes of not being seen.

Metal scraping. Another set of footprints.

"Underoos."

Peter found himself looking down at Mister Stark, who was looking up at him with an amused smirk.

"Get down here, kid."

The teen looked at Steve, who raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. Peter defeatedly jumped back down, picking up the paper plates and dirty food. He picked off the stray hair and dust bunnies as best as he could and placed it back onto the plate. He looked up and saw Mister Stark making a disgusted face, so he stood up again, self consciously fiddling with his web-shooters and emptying the cartridge.

"Gross."

"Yeah."

"Parker, right?"

He shrugged.

"Tony Stark. You should know me."

"Mm."

"Seriously?"

He shrugged again.

"Peter?"

The teen looked up at Barnes before he caught his eye and looked away again.

Tony tapped something on his phone before pulling up Peter's youtube channel, consisting of videos uploaded months ago, showing off his tricks and skills. The video that the man had pulled up was the last one that's been uploaded since he'd… what did people say about him? Disappear? Gone MIA? Runaway?

"Quick question." Tony pressed the play button and the group watched as Peter, in his former homemade costume, stopped a car from hitting a train. "That's you, right?"

Peter shrugged again.

"You gotta answer him one day, kid."

"I don't want to."

"Peter-"

"Where's Zemo?" Peter interrupted Bucky, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"We don't know."

"That's great." Sarcasm.

"How do you know him?"

He shrugged.

"...Is he your fath-"

"Ew-" Peter made a face, lightly pushing away Mister Stark. "No!"

"Then how do you know him? Clearly not because you're some intern or whatever he said."

"I-"

"There are more serious matters at hand, Tony," Steve said softly, looking at him.

"Yeah. You're right. Okay." Tony let out a deep breath, looking around. "I'm pooped. You guys are seriously sleeping in here?"

"If you haven't noticed they're kinda wanted right now," Peter muttered dryly.

"Right, right," he pointed at the teen. "And you're in dire need of an upgrade. Alright, let's get some shuteye in this place you call a hideout."

* * *

_Dire need of an upgrade? What the hell does that mean?_

Peter turned to his side, struggling to sleep as he listened uneasily to the snores that echoed in the warehouse, covering his ears to block out the noise.

This was fine.

He laid on the cold ground, using a big rock as a pillow as he continued to toss and turn. He wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he made another attempt to fall asleep.

It didn't really work. Peter ended up letting his thoughts wander, often going back to the subject of May. God, he really hoped May was okay.

She worries. A lot. He really hoped that she hadn't done anything rash, anything risky. He didn't want to have to save her too.

This wouldn't take long, at least, he hoped it wouldn't. Find Zemo, take him down. It would be easy.

It would be so easy.

He heard some footsteps a little ways away, a silhouette, maybe a couple of feet away from him, and Peter held his breath. He heard a zipper and crinkling plastic before it went silent again.

Peter shivered lightly, the headlights of passing cars illuminating the otherwise dark warehouse.

And then a whispering voice: "Peter?"

He turned at the sound; Barnes, with his backpack in his arms, walking toward where Peter was attempting to sleep. Peter looked up at him and sat up, his legs crisscrossed.

"Mm."

Bucky gave him a small laugh as he fumbled around with a skinny flashlight, shaking it around before it gave out a weak light, illuminating the area around them in a soft white glow. Peter hummed tiredly and rubbed his eyes, getting used to the bright light.

"Peter, right?"

The teen nodded sleepily.

"Can't sleep," Barnes admitted.

"Me neither. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. You didn't know."

"I did, though," Peter kept on attaching and detaching his web-shooters absentmindedly. "I did, he told me what he was going to do and I justified it…"

Bucky kept silent as he continued rummaging around his backpack before he pulled out a clear plastic bag filled with two small plums. He handed one to Peter, who denied it.

"Not hungry."

"Then explain why your stomach was growling two hours ago."

"Lost my appetite."

"Eat."

Peter raised his eyebrows at him before he cautiously grabbed the fruit, taking a small bite out of it.

They stayed like that in silence for a while, eating fruit and sitting together. It wasn't really as awkward as Peter originally thought it had been, but it was still pretty uncomfortable. He avoided Barnes' gaze out of guilt, looking away at every chance he got.

"Who's Zemo?"

Peter looked up at Bucky before shrugging, finishing the plum, and throwing it toward a pile of garbage.

"You have to stop shrugging, kid."

"Sorry."

"Who is he?"

"Some prick."

"What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Bucky nodded understandingly, sighing. "Whatever it is, I'll understand."

"Stop talking to me like I need a shrink."

"Maybe you do."

Peter glared at him half-heartedly, taking off his web-shooters and placing them beside him. "I don't."

"I'm trying to make conversation."

"Right."

Peter crossed his arms, sighing. "I'm from Queens."

"Brooklyn. What happened?"

"He took me."

Silence.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

Peter laid back down, his eyes feeling heavy. He blinked slowly as he looked up at Barnes, who turned the flashlight down to a lower setting.

"You sure?"

Silence.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

They stayed like that for a while, in the silence, with their presence comforting each other. Peter shivered, and Bucky took off one of his jackets and placed it over the teen.

"You don't have to…"

"You're cold."

Peter looked at the man and shyly scooted closer to him. Barnes smiled and put an arm around the teen. "Go to sleep." The man said, zipping up his backpack.

"You first."

"I guess so, huh?"

They stayed in that position for a while, until Bucky grabbed his backpack and scooted a few feet away from Peter. He placed the backpack under his head and laid down, turning off the flashlight.

"Night, kid."

And then it was silent.

Darkness. Silence.

He could hear nothing except the engines of cars and the hum of planes overhead. It was quiet. Almost peaceful.

Almost.

Peter rolled over onto his side and went to sleep, and the only sounds you would be able to hear were the quiet snores of Mister Stark and the hushed mumbling coming out of the teen's mouth as it slowly approached daytime.


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks again MpeachlinS for betaing the story!

* * *

_The kid talks in his sleep. How cute._

Tony shook his head as he took a sip of cheap black coffee that he had gotten from the nearest corner store. He'd already finished the dry sandwich that he had bought and saved the other four for when the others woke up.

So he sat there, on the floor, drinking crappy coffee. He snickered to himself as he scrolled through his phone. That was kind of a bust; there was no cell service where they were. That sucked.

Tony was tired. No, scratch that. Exhausted. He had woken up early and couldn't force himself back to sleep, so he stayed awake and fixed his wristband which contained his Iron Man gauntlet, using a broken screwdriver that he found in the corner of the room.

His Iron Man suit hung back near where he had slept that night, in case an intruder came or if Zemo had decided to look for them. Thankfully, nothing of the sort happened, and they had a relatively peaceful night. Tony finished his coffee and threw the paper cup away absentmindedly, testing out his gauntlet.

Good as new, he'd be able to fix it properly once they got back to the tower, but for now, that would have to do. Tony looked back to where the kid was sleeping and saw that he had moved to a different position, his snoring more obvious. He snorted before getting up, dusting himself off.

Thank god he hadn't decided to wear anything too expensive, the ground was dirtier than he had originally thought it was. At least his shirt wasn't too dirty. He checked his phone and frowned; only 7:00 a.m., he'd been awake for three hours, now, and he was getting bored.

He walked around the warehouse for a while, silently cursing the kid for choosing this as a hideout. _He really couldn't think of anything else? Maybe a shady inn, or an abandoned house?_ No, Parker had to choose an abandoned, musty warehouse. Tony rolled his eyes before his eyes landed on a book that was lying on an old table beside the vice that Barnes' arm had been trapped in.

It was red. That much he could tell. A worn red, maybe mahogany. Red with a dark brown star in the middle, sort of like the symbol on Barnes' arm. He never did trust him, not that much anyways. He was the Winter Soldier, for one. That's enough for him to not be completely trustworthy.

Tony carefully picked it up, running his hand across the cover. He flipped through the first few pages, getting FRIDAY to translate the words for him; mostly information about who Barnes was.

And then it got deeper. They recorded Barnes' missions, how he succeeded in them, who he had to assassinate. Anyone who seemed like a threat to HYDRA. He frowned as he continued flipping until he got to it.

_Mission Log: December 16, 1991_

That was the day his parents died. When he lost his mom.

He uneasily listened to FRIDAY as she continued translating the words, his fingers starting to shake and his mind beginning to blur as his brain slowly began to realize what exactly happened.

She died.

They died.

He had repressed the memories, repressed them until they were at the back of his mind, barely coming up unless he was thoroughly exhausted.

But it wasn't a car accident. It never was. They lied to him. Told him it was a drunk driver, that someone crashed into them and the impact was too strong and they died, but they lied.

The book said that it was Barnes.

The Winter Soldier.

Tony's hands shook and he dropped the book to the ground, breathing heavily as he looked around.

He killed his mom.

Barnes killed her.

He killed her.

Everything he knew, everything he was told, it was all a lie. It wasn't an accident.

That was what they had told him. An accident. That it was "unfortunate."

It was Barnes. He killed his mother. He killed his mother and Tony was going to make sure he paid for it.

"Tony?"

Steve stood behind him, having been woken up by the sound of the book falling onto the ground. He looked almost concerned until he seemed to put together what had happened.

"Rogers."

Tony stepped up to him, rage fueling every part of his being as he tried his best not to just punch his friend right square in his perfect face. Steve's friend did this, he was going to make him pay.

"What did you-"

"Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"Don't play stupid with me. Did you know?" Venom filled every word that Tony spoke, his voice shaking as the situation felt so much more real with each passing second. This was real. This wasn't a dream that his mind had made up. It was real and Barnes had killed his mom. He knew it. He knew their lies.

Steve seemed to hesitate before he spoke softly, "I didn't know it was him."

"Bullshit, Rogers. Did you _know_?"

Silence.

"Yes."

Tony stepped away from him, his mind reeling at the information he had gathered. He knew. His friend knew and he didn't tell him. Didn't tell him jack, nada. Nothing. Nothing but lies.

Liars. All of them.

"You never told me."

"I didn't want you to lash out."

He didn't even have to think, it was like he was programmed to do this; Tony punched him square in the face, Steve staggering back in surprise. He took this chance and ran, ran towards Barnes who was still asleep, tapping on his wristband to produce his gauntlet. He kicked away his backpack that he used as a pillow, and he woke up.

"What-"

"You asshole."

Tony threw a punch at him, and Barnes' eyes widened as he used his metal arm to shield himself from the blow. Steve ran up to where Sam was sleeping and shook him, snapping at him to wake up.

"Sam, we have a… situation."

Tony continued fighting Barnes, only fueled with rage and grief, not even remembering that he could use his own suit. He fought him with his gauntlet, the edges of it become scratched and dented as he continued.

"Do you even remember them?!"

"I remember every one of them."

Steve protested against Tony, trying to convince him that it wasn't Barnes' fault, that he should be blaming HYDRA, but he wasn't listening. He couldn't listen. Voices were muffled and noises were piercing, and he could do nothing except give in to his anger, to fight for his mom. Because she was the only one who believed in him.

* * *

"Mister Stark?"

Peter had woken up and was scrambling backward, trying to put his web shooters on his wrists as fast as he could. He looked up in fear at the two fighting, confused as to what was going on.

One moment he had been dreaming about kissing Liz and the next moment he woke up to the sound of yelling and protesting. Peter watched as Steve and Sam ran into the fight, trying to pull Mister Stark away from Bucky. What had happened to get them to fight like this? He didn't exactly know why but he was determined to end it.

"Come on, guys. At least pretend you like each other," Peter grumbled, getting up and attaching a web onto the ceiling. He jumped up and he swung toward Tony, kicking him away from Barnes.

Tony groaned, the lens in his glasses was partially cracked. "Get lost, kid."

"Tony, it wasn't him, HYDRA was in his head," Steve shouted, getting close to Bucky in case something were to happen to him again.

Something about HYDRA? That was the organization that was inside SHIELD, wasn't it? The one that had been taken down? They were the ones who captured Barnes, weren't they?

"I don't care. He killed my mom."

Oh.

OH.

_Well that's awkward._

Tony pushed Peter onto the floor, and the teen winced before jumping up and blocking the man's path.

"C'mon, man," Peter frowned, attaching his webs onto Tony's gauntlet in an attempt to rip it off. He stumbled backwards as it didn't budge, and teen grumbed. "This isn't going to change what happened. I mean, look how I turned out."

Maybe if he hadn't gone after the guy who killed his uncle, this never would've happened. But it figures, bad things happen to him all the time.

It's not like Peter didn't sympathize; he remembered how he felt towards his uncle's killer all too well. Fury. Guilt. All jumbled up feelings that Mister Stark must be feeling right now, and he wanted to help.

Steve stepped beside Peter and patted his shoulder, gently pushing him aside as if he was some kid stuffed between their parents' divorce. Not like he knew what that felt like, that's just what he assumed it felt like. He watched as the two argued.

"Tony, listen to me. Zemo is a more serious threat right now."

Peter turned away from them and headed towards Birdie, who was standing beside Bucky, a hand placed on his shoulder. Sam asked how Barnes was doing and the man only shrugged, crossing his arms.

And Peter's heart almost shattered, because his friend was standing there, looking down and attempting to hide his metal arm. He wouldn't even look up at the teen. Peter placed a hand over his arm.

"It's not your fault."

"You don't know that."

Peter flinched at the tone of his voice, but kept talking. "HYDRA did this. Not you. It was never you."

Bucky stayed silent, but that was enough for Peter. He let the teen stay and the three of them watched as Stark and Rogers argued. Peter felt the strong need to step in, but he didn't want to intrude; Mister Stark already seemed like he hated him.

His childhood idol hated him.

That was a fun thought. He sighed and looked at Sam. "This was what he wanted."

Memories of Zemo's rants and lectures were coming back to him now, hitting him like a truck as he replayed moments of arguing and yelling at each other. He wanted to destroy the group, and Peter feared that he might've accomplished it.

Sam turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"He… I don't know. He wanted to pull the Avengers apart. That's what he was gonna use Bucky for."

"Creative."

"Yeah."

Their yelling was deafening to Peter's ears, and when him and Sam stopped talking that was all he could concentrate on. It made his head pound and he felt guilty all the more, while the two argued and fought.

He wanted to do something, say something, but suddenly even the feeling of having his clothes touch his skin made him cringe and he just wasn't having the best morning. Peter covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to concentrate on anything other than the fact that his childhood idols were falling apart.

May. May was nice. She was kind, he hoped she was okay. Ned was cool, hopefully he wasn't too lonely. Liz. Liz was pretty, he missed Liz…

And then it was quiet, or at least quieter than it was a while ago, and Sam nudged the teen. He looked up as Mister Stark and Mister America started walking back towards them, and he sighed in relief.

"Buck, you okay?" Steve took Barnes aside to talk, and Peter tried to eavesdrop before hearing a snap from Birdie.

"C'mon kid. We don't have all day. Stark's getting our stuff back."

"Shut it, birdbrain."

Peter looked at Sam reluctantly before following him, rubbing his arms as he felt his spider senses act up. He looked around but saw nothing, so he turned and followed Sam.

He watched as Mister Stark made his suit retract and fit into a comfortable suitcase as pressed a button on his gauntlet, allowing it to retract back to its wristband form.

Peter looked around before he picked up the red book, pocketing it in case they needed it later, and he ran off, following the group.

* * *

It was a two-hour drive to get to a mildly secluded spot and Peter had already fallen asleep. He was exhausted, so he had rested his head against the tiny car window that Steve had managed to steal before he had drifted off. Steve drove while Sam sat in the front, with Tony being on the middle seat and Bucky on the passenger's side.

It was a tight set up and highly uncomfortable, but Tony had managed to refrain from killing Barnes so that was a miracle all on its own. He refused to speak to him though, which Bucky was fine with.

Sam looked out the window, watching the world whiz by past him. Some kid he was, that spider-guy. Something about him made him sort of pity him, despite not knowing his story.

Or… Pity wouldn't really be the word. A sort of protectiveness, you could call it. Not like a mother hen, God no. Maybe like those cool uncles who all the kids like. Yeah, definitely not.

The silence continued for a while, save for Parker's quiet snoring and frequent mumbling. From what he had gathered from a few hours ago, the kid might've had some sort of enhanced hearing; probably why he had covered his ears even when Steve and Stark weren't arguing that close to them.

He checked on Barnes once in a while, gave him a small smile to see if he was okay, and that was that. Not a lot of conversation. Until Tony decided to break the tense silence by sitting up and pulling out his phone.

"FRIDAY, pull up everything you have on Peter Parker." He said quietly, making sure the kid didn't wake up. Sam turned around to see what was going on.

"Right away, Boss."

It took a couple seconds, before a picture of Peter flew into a hologram above his phone, as well as many details about the kid's own personal life.

It felt like intruding, but even Sam was curious, and he began reading through the text. Steve turned around and attempted to read some of it, before he changed his mind and continued to focus on the roads.

"Good grades." Sam commented, and Tony nodded.

"Went missing five months ago," Bucky said softly, ignoring the death glare that Tony directed at him.

Tony stayed quiet, until he read more of the file. Sam looked at him curiously.

"Jesus, he's lost everyone."

"Are you serious?"

"Most recent one was three months ago; May Parker, she was his aunt. Car crash, high driver."

"Holy shit."

Steve looked away from the road for a split second and sent a sympathizing look at the kid, sighing. "He probably doesn't even know."

Tony looked at Barnes and, for a second, Sam thought that he was about to rip his face off. Instead, the man half-heartedly glared at Barnes before looking back towards Steve.

"We need to tell him."

"No, not now." Steve replied, shaking his head.

"Are you kidding me?"

"I'm with Stark on this. What the hell, Steve?" Sam glared at his friend. That's cruel, not telling someone that a close relative had died? That's cold...

"You saw how T'Challa turned out. If he finds out his aunt's gone he's probably gonna lash out for not getting to see his aunt ever again."

"Maybe that's for the best."

"Buck.."

"Rogers, it's going to save him grief. You cannot do what you did to me, you can't do that."

"He doesn't have to know yet."

"And when he wants to go home?"

Sam looked at Rogers only to have not been provided an answer, and the rest of the drive was spent in uncomfortable silence until Steve pulled over under an overpass.

"Give me a moment, its Sharon."

And he left.

It was an awkward silence for a while, the only sound being the muffled talking of Steve and Sharon. She opened the trunk of her own car to reveal Sam's wings and Steve's suit and shield, and they continued talking.

Barnes spoke up, leaning towards Sam, "Can you move your seat up?"

"No."

Barnes leaned back onto his seat, doing his best attempt at crossing his arms with the limited space he had. Tony stifled a quiet laugh before looking seriously at the man.

"I don't blame you. Not anymore."

Barnes looked at him in doubt.

"I mean, I do, but its like… I blame HYDRA, mostly."

"Oh."

"I mean-"

"No, I uh, get it."

"Yeah, uh..." Tony looked away awkwardly.

It was silent again, but the tension in the car lifted. Sam was grateful, he didn't know how much longer he could've lasted in the car knowing they were mentally shooting daggers at each other.

He looked back out and saw Sharon and Steve kiss before he glanced their way, and Sam nodded approvingly, smirking. At least he finally got to do something fun since the 40s.

The kid yawned, and he turned around again as he watched him wriggle around in his spot before carefully opening his eyes. Parker shielded his eyes from the seemingly dim light and blinked for a few seconds.

"Where are we?"

"Getting Rogers' shield and Tweetie Bird's wings. Suit's in the back, all ready to go. I'm trying to track Zemo so we can go after him," Tony replied as Steve entered the car.

"Oh, okay, uh… call the play, coach." He looked up at Stark excitedly.

"You sit here. You're a stowaway."

Peter looked offended, scooting away from the man. "I can help!"

"No, you're a kid. That puts way too much responsibility on me on its own."

"I've known him for months, dude."

Tony didn't budge.

"_Please_," Peter said breathlessly, "let me do this. Let me do a good thing, after I've let myself do a bad thing. Please let me have this chance."

Steve and Sam looked over at the back, curious as to what Stark had to say to that.

"Okay."


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks again MpeachlinS for betaing the story!

* * *

"How'd you get your powers?"

"Huh?"

Peter looked over toward Mister Stark, who was looking at him expectantly, and he shrugged, looking back out the window. He didn't really want to talk about it, rather have it completely gone from his mind than to remember.

It's not like he hated how he got his powers, he just wished he'd never gotten them. Maybe then Uncle Ben would be safe and he would've still been at home with May.

"It's whatever," Peter shrugged, looking back out the window, absentmindedly rubbing the spot where the stupid spider had bitten him; on the palm of his hand.

It was stupid.

They said it would be a fun field trip, that Oscorp was way up there alongside The Avengers Tower. They said that it would be a fun tour experience, that you could intern there once you were seventeen. Instead, all Peter got was a detention from the teacher and a sickness that felt ten times worse than the flu before he got his powers.

His powers were good, he liked them. They were fun, he liked being able to climb walls and he liked not getting exhausted during P.E. class all the time. But it sucked because he couldn't even experience that anymore.

Jeez, what would Ben say to him if he saw him in this state?

"No one can climb walls at birth," Sam raised his eyebrows, turning to face the teen. Peter pouted, half-heartedly glaring at the man.

Sam was cool. He gradually started to like him, he thought that his sarcastic remarks were funny and entertaining. He reminded Peter of Michelle, except he didn't flip him off every three seconds. It was fun.

Huh. He never thought of meeting the Avengers as "fun." More nerve racking and terrifying than anything. But this was fun. Interesting. Peter would take this out of staying with Zemo at any time of day.

"Climbing walls, huh?" Tony looked at him. "How do you do that? Cohesive gloves?"

"It's a funny story, I uh..." Peter looked away and became suddenly interested in his fingernails, picking at a hangnail on his index finger. Mister Stark swatted Peter's hand, and the teen pulled his hands away, looking at the man in surprise.

May used to do that all the time when he picked at his scabs or tried to touch a recent injury. She said she didn't want it to hurt more than it already did, and he supposed she was right in a way.

"Well?"

"I um… was bitten by a spider."

It fell into an uneasy silence, like the ones in sitcoms whenever the awful laugh track starts playing when someone makes an unfunny joke.

And then; a stifled snicker, from the one and only Mister Stark.

"I'm sorry, you were bitten by a _what_?"

Peter looked away in embarrassment, his ears feeling hot, "A... a spider…"

"That's sad."

"Shut up, Twitter."

"How dare you-"

"What's Twitter-?"

"Forget it, Rogers."

Sam turned to glare at Peter, who only smirked cheekily back. Mister Stark finally stopped laughing and gave Peter a high five, and he had looked at his hand in awe afterward, amazed that he was able to have that sort of interaction with a man like him.

They fell to a nice silence after that, the gentle hum of the engine running filled the otherwise quiet car. Eventually, Sam turned the radio dial, letting old rock play while they drove to… somewhere. No one really told him what was going on, but then again, no one really did.

Steve frowned, fumbling with a few buttons on the radio, appearing to struggle with changing the station. He finally managed to change the station; this time to a news station.

"_Theo Broussard, a psychiatrist from Geneva was found dead in a hotel bathroom in Romania, with the most likely suspect being Colonel Helmut Ze_-"

Peter leaned over and turned the radio off, the words of the news anchor getting repeated over and over in his head. He leaned back onto his seat and buried his face in his hands, attempting to process the information.

Someone was found in a bathroom, dead, with Zemo as a suspect.

Zemo.

He'd always thought he wasn't the greatest; what with kidnapping random teens just because they have powers. He didn't think… He didn't know what he thought. He thought that Zemo would never do that, not in a million years. He never seemed to be the type of person to murder, to kill.

Sure, he would hit Peter sometimes, the occasional backhand and slaps on the wrist. He thought that Taskmaster was worse than Zemo, but…

That must've been why he didn't let Peter into the bathroom a few days ago, even though he was probably bleeding all over the nice carpet floor. Must've been why he never let the teen inside. Peter let out a shaky breath, "Shit."

"Kid?" Bucky leaned over to look at him, frowning when he saw the teen hunched forward.

"Did you know?" Mister Stark asked, placing an awkward hand on Peter's shoulder.

Peter could only shake his head slightly, he was still trying to process the news. If he had known, he would've told someone immediately, get authorities involved…

But no. He couldn't get authorities involved before, he'd always been threatened not to. He was afraid; afraid of losing May, afraid of what Zemo might have done to her if he didn't obey them. But that didn't seem to matter anymore.

Zemo killed someone. In their own hotel room. Peter should've known, should've sensed it. Why didn't his senses warn him, tell him something was wrong? It would've been easy, none of this would happen if he had just-

"Hey, Parker, chill out."

Peter snapped his head up, getting pulled out of his thoughts and suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He felt stuck, and he thought that the walls of the car were closing in on them. It felt too bright, too loud and too quiet all at the same time, and that's when he felt his shoulders being grasped firmly.

"Kid, you're gonna have to breathe unless you want to pass out."

Peter looked at the man who was speaking: Tony Stark. He tried to pull away from him, only to remember that they were in a tiny car. He only managed to press his back against the door before the man started speaking again.

"Yep. That's the door, don't fall out- easy on the brakes Rogers, Jesus."

The car halted to a stop, and Peter's head flew against the window, making a small crack. "I feel sick."

"Yeah, and if you don't stop hyperventilating you're going to pass out too."

"Stark."

"Right. Um, out you go, Underoos."

Peter fumbled with the controls until Bucky opened the door for him on the other side, and he scrambled out of the car, pacing back and forth. "I…"

"Easy, kid, deep breaths, we're right here."

"I can't."

"Peter-"

"He _killed_ someone and I didn't notice jack, I-"

"Hey, easy Parker," Sam grabbed him by the shoulders, effectively stopping the teen's pacing. "As far as I know it wasn't your fault, it's that bastard who killed the guy."

"But-"

"Did you know he was gonna do it?"

"No, but…"

"Don't beat yourself up over this. We'll put Zemo or what's his face in jail, where he belongs."

Peter looked up at him and shook his head again, trying to push himself away. "No, no, no… These stupid powers should've told me something was wrong. Something was wrong and I didn't notice when I _should've_-" He pushed himself away from Sam, a horrible sound coming from the back of his throat as he willed himself not to cry.

"Alright, kid, calm down…"

Sam trailed off as Peter turned his head to look at Mister Stark and Mister Rogers, who were standing together. Stark was talking to someone over the phone, and by the sounds of it, it was leading to an argument.

Barnes walked back over to Peter once their argument was done, and the teen flinched away from him at first before realizing it was just him. He didn't like it, not right now. Even his own clothing made him want to rip himself apart.

"I have snacks in my backpack, want some?"

Peter shrugged, reverting back to being quiet as he let himself get brought back to the tiny car. Sam patted his shoulder and walked over towards Stark and Rogers, leaving just Peter and Bucky alone together.

He didn't mind it. He liked Barnes. Peter thought he talked a little loud sometimes and it hurt his ears a bit, but it was fine. This time even the tiniest little noise ticked him off; the rustling of leaves in the wind, the quiet birds chirping in the distance, even down to the sound of his own breathing. He cringed when Bucky opened up a granola bar, handing it to the teen.

"Here, kid."

Peter carefully grabbed the granola bar from him and turned it around over and over, before he finally bit a piece of it off.

He watched as Bucky sat down again, his head hitting the head rest. The man hummed, frowning and closing his eyes. Peter looked at him and sat down too, a little bit away from him but still relatively close.

Peter felt safe near him, like he was one of those gentle giants he used to hear in fairy tales and books that they read when he was in grade school. He didn't talk much but he assumed that they both appreciated each other's presence, and that was enough for him.

It calmed him down a bit, eventually, as his sensory overload slowly wore off. Peter looked over at Bucky after a while, when Steve started to walk towards the car.

"How's Alpine?"

Bucky's face turned to one with confusion before realizing what he was talking about, and he shrugged. "I had a feeling something was going to happen so I sent her out. I really hope she's okay. I'm sure she will be."

Peter nodded slowly, disappointed that he wasn't entirely sure how she was doing, but he couldn't really do anything about it. He promised himself that he would go and look for her once this entire mess was over, and show her to May and Ned. They both loved cats, and he was pretty sure his apartment was animal-friendly.

Mister Stark opened the door and motioned Peter to scoot over, to which he did, and the rest of the adults entered the car.

"Nat's coming over."

"You say it like we're having a sleepover." Sam said in an amused tone as Steve started driving.

"Who's Nat?"

"Black Widow. Lovely girl, she'll meet us at a hotel and we can stop there for the night."

"Oh, okay."

He turned towards Bucky, who he was now uncomfortably close to since Stark had entered the back seat, but the man only shrugged and zipped up his backpack.

"How long till we get there?"

"About…" Tony pulled out his phone. "2 more hours."

"Oh great."


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks again MpeachlinS for betaing the story!

"C'mon, Parker, get up."

"Hm?"

"I don't want to have to carry you."

"Yeah, like your old ass could pick him up."

"_Wow_."

Peter stirred in his seat and slowly squinted his eyes open, trying to let in as little light as possible. He didn't have a problem, though; it was already dark out. He sat up, a slight pain in his neck, and looked at the men talking.

Mister Stark was looking at Sam in a mock offended expression, who was already halfway out of the car. Barnes was outside, his face pinched as if he was trying not to laugh.

"I'm up, I'm up…" Peter mumbled quietly, rubbing his neck as he opened the door to get out. "Where are we?"

"Daystar Inn. A charmer."

Peter stretched his legs as he yawned, rubbing his eyes. He looked around, but all he could see were small buildings and townhomes. The inn itself was not that big either; he supposed that there were at most fifty rooms.

"Alright, kid. Let's go."

Peter grabbed the red book from the car and tucked it under his arm before following the others into the building. Warm air greeted him and the smell of cleaning solution made him make a face.

It wasn't that bad. Typical hotel; laminate flooring with carpets in the lobby, as well as budget sofas and a vending machine. He could hear the quiet click of someone's shoes and the muffled speech of someone upstairs.

It was nice. Not luxurious, but not budget-friendly either. _Subtle, I guess._ They walked up to the front desk, and Mister Stark spoke, "Tony Stark, we're staying for the night.'' He gestured towards the group, and Sam waved.

The receptionist looked at him in awe, and Peter thought that she was about to ask for an autograph, maybe a picture, before she said, ''room forty-two,'' in a slight accent. She slid two cards onto the counter, and Tony took one and handed Mister Rogers the other one.

The group began to walk, so Peter followed them, only to be pulled aside by Barnes. He looked up at him with a confused expression before Bucky asked, ''you doing okay?"

Peter nodded, and Barnes gave him a small smile as they walked faster in order to catch up with the group.

They headed towards the left hallway, and easily found their room. Peter watched as Tony slid the card under the doorknob, and the door opened, allowing them to enter.

The room certainly made up for the smell in the hallways; two queen-sized beds with clean-smelling sheets and cushioned armchairs. A decent-sized television stood on a stand and a window that looked out to the small town and the highway ahead of it.

''Stark?''

Peter turned to the voice; a beautiful woman with red shoulder-length hair was sitting down on one of the armchairs, a hotel brochure nestled comfortably on her lap.

Zemo had told him about her. Natasha Romanoff. She was part of the original Avengers, and he always thought that she was one of the coolest ones besides Iron Man. Now, here he was, inside the same hotel room as her.

Mister Stark smiled awkwardly, walked toward her and put down his card down on a nearby table.

''Nat.''

''Who's the kid?''

Peter pointed to himself nervously, ''I'm Pete- Peter P- I'm Spider-Man.''

She glared at Tony and scoffed, standing up, the brochure slowly falling to the floor. Sam made a quick move to close the door and locked it, while Steve closed the curtains and gently grabbed her arm.

"Hey, calm down…"

"Are you kidding me? You took some ten-year-old kid and brought him with you to fight this guy?"

"I-I'm fourteen..." Peter mumbled quietly, and the woman placed a finger on his mouth to shush him.

"Look, to be fair, he kinda just latched onto us, he's not actually gonna help us," Sam reasoned.

"Wait, what? Yeah, I am," Peter looked at the man in confusion, crossing his arms and pouting.

"He's not Spider-Man; he's a Spider-Baby. What were you thinking, Tony?"

"_Me_?" Mister Stark put a hand over his heart as if he was offended. "I didn't do anything! They already had him when I found them!"

"Why would you let him come with you? You could've asked for his parents' phone numbers, called CPS, anything else, but you decide to haul ass from Romania all the way to _Berlin_."

Peter opened his mouth to make a witty remark, but Barnes nudged his ribs and shook his head, then nodded toward the door. Bucky headed toward it, and the teen awkwardly followed him outside, closing the door behind him. Before he fully closed it, though, he could see Sam flipping them off, and he presumed it was because they had just left him there to deal with the three arguing.

The teen sighed, his back pressed against the wall as he slid down. Bucky followed suit, a few inches away from him.

"Not how I pictured meeting the Avengers," Peter commented dryly, his hand going through his hair.

"Yeah?" Bucky looked at him with an amused expression. "How'd you picture it?"

Peter shrugged, still hearing the argument from behind the wall. "Less shouting. Thought I'd meet them when I turned eighteen. Get more experience, escape Zemo, graduate. Take down some bad guys along the way."

Bucky let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "You remind me of Steve when we were younger," he said, fondness in his tone. "He never did back out of a fight, even now. He was skinny. Probably the same size as you, except plagued with probably every illness imaginable. Dumbass wanted to be enlisted in a war, and eventually, he did; after he took some drugs and got experimented on."

"Yeesh."

"Yeah."

Peter tilted his head back as the argument continued, and a few minutes later Mister Birdie walked out the door and sat beside Barnes, crossing his arms.

"Natasha's losing her shit and I'm scared."

"We all are," Bucky rolls his eyes. "Any progress in calming her down?"

"If anything I think she's getting angrier."

"Oh."

Peter sighed again, pressing his fingers together and nervously fidgeting, eager to just lay down somewhere so he could get some sleep. Or maybe get something to eat. But he didn't have any money…

"Why do you want to go with us so badly?" Sam interrupted Peter's thoughts, leaning over so he could get a better look at the teen.

He shrugged, his hand resting on the spot that the spider had bitten him. "I… I guess because I've been living with Zemo for five months," Sam nodded, encouraging him to continue. "He promised I'd see my aunt again if I finished the job. I just want to defeat him, go back to my semi-normal life with my aunt, y'know?"

Sam thought about his reply before he continued, "but he's not here anymore, kid. We could get you a plane ticket right now and you could head back home."

"Yeah, but… I'll never forgive myself for it. Knowing that I could've done something but I didn't? Having this power… the power to shoot webs, to climb walls, to have enhanced senses… I have a responsibility to use them for good."

"And you think that if we let you fight Zemo with us, you'll be satisfied and head home?"

Peter shrugged, his finger tapping the floor. "I guess. I know him better than you guys. He's manipulative, knows how to get under my skin. But he's just human. He doesn't have powers. I want to at least have some part in getting him arrested or whatever it is you do to the bad guys you fight."

Barnes nodded slowly, though he looked like he had something else to say. He opened his mouth and turned to the kid, only to close it again. Peter frowned at him and pressed his ear against the wall before smiling as he heard no evidence of anyone talking.

"They stop?"

"I think so." Peter stood up, while Sam walked up to the door to unlock it with the keycard that Mister Stark had left on the television stand.

They walked inside the room, where Miss Black Widow had her arms crossed, sitting in the same chair that she was in when they had first arrived. Mister Stark was tenderly rubbing his ear while Mister Rogers was trying to figure out how to work a remote.

"Alright, genius," Bucky smirked, walking up to the man, presumably to help him out with the buttons.

* * *

Peter tossed from his position in one of the smaller armchairs, grumbling before he finally decided to get up. It was no use, he couldn't sleep with Barnes, Mister Stark, and Mister Bird snoring in the same room. It was too loud, and he had no idea how either of them hadn't woken the other one up.

He sat up from the chair, ruffling his hair around until he gave up and left it as a mess. Peter stood up to grab the red book off of the television stand but instead he heard a voice; "couldn't sleep?"

Peter jumped, high enough to latch onto the ceiling if he wanted to, but instead, he fumbled with his arms, wondering if he should cross them, but instead landed on just placing them to the side. His eyes adjusted to the darkness before realizing it was Miss Black Widow, sitting on an armchair comfortably with a blanket over her shoulders with a peaceful expression.

After a long silence, he shook his head, "no."

"Me neither. You hungry?"

Silence again, and he replied, "I guess."

He saw Miss Romanoff stand up as he gestured toward the door, grabbing something off of a nightstand before following him. Peter awkwardly exited the room, the light in the hallways blinding him for a few seconds.

He rubbed his eyes, allowing them to get used to the light before he looked back at the red-head, who was closing the door behind her.

"They snore loudly."

"Yeah."

Peter played with the hem of his shirt, unsure of where exactly this conversation was headed, and Romanoff spoke, "maybe there's a twenty-four-seven restaurant here somewhere. C'mon."

"Um, okay."

They exited the building, with Miss Widow using her phone's flashlight to guide the way. Peter listened intently as he heard the quiet hoot of an owl and the occasional hum of a car passing through.

They didn't talk much as they walked around the small town until Miss Romanoff got bored of the silence. "So how'd you get into this mess that Stark calls 'safe?'"

Peter looked up at her with raised eyebrows and shrugged. "Zemo."

"What happened with him?"

"Basically kidnapping."

An uncomfortable silence followed, and then; "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I got trained, got better at things. Learned how to control my powers."

"Sounds like a child soldier."

"I'm not."

Romanoff frowned, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "When this is all done, I'd like to train you some more. If you're gonna be a twelve-year-old kid on the battlefield you have to at least know what you're doing."

"I'm _fourteen_, I know what I'm doing," Peter pouted, kicking a pebble. "It's whatever. When this is all done I'm going home to see my friends and family again. Maybe chill at school, try to fit into a schedule that would allow me to fight crime while still getting the grades needed to graduate."

"Whatever you say, Spider-Baby."

Peter half-heartedly glared at her while she looked like she was trying not to laugh. They found a small convenience store and entered, looking around at aisles filled with chips and candy. Miss Black Widow left to grab sandwiches while Peter awkwardly waited by the counter, tapping his fingers against the glass cover.

The woman handed him a sub and a can of Brisk, and Peter tried to give the drink back.

"I'm so good, just the sandwich is good-"

"Take the drink. Relax, I'm not gonna poison you."

"But-"

"Just take it, alright? This is all coming out of Stark's bank account anyways."

Peter reluctantly held onto the can and the ham sub as Miss Romanoff placed down her own stuff; an orange Gatorade and a salami sub.

"Eighteen euro." The man at the counter droned tiredly, and Miss Romanoff handed the cash and left, followed by Peter stuttering behind her.

"Miss Black Widow- Miss Widow- Miss Black Widow Romanoff ma'am, you didn't have to buy a drink..."

She held up her hand, rolling her eyes. "First of all, kid, it's Natasha. Second, it's no problem. Just don't tell Tony."

Peter looked at her in awe while they walked back to the hotel, eating their sandwiches in the lobby. They eventually started chatting, catching up on the news that they'd missed.

They finished their drinks and their sandwiches and headed back to the room after Peter had yawned. "Good sandwiches," Natasha whispered absentmindedly as she wrapped herself up in her blanket.

Peter shrugged, curling up into a ball in his own little armchair to keep himself warm. "Delmar's is better."


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks again MpeachlinS for betaing the story!

* * *

"Do we really have to take a plane?"

Peter watched his breath disappear in the cool morning air, wrapping his arms around himself, while looking like he was about to start crying.

To be fair, it wasn't that far off; his head was starting to hurt and he felt uneasy as he stepped inside the… what did they call it? A jet? A qui… quinplane or something. _Whatever_. The point is that he hated planes and everything about them. Worse yet, he had to keep himself under control, because it's not just any ordinary plane; it's an _Avengers' plane._

"It's just a jet, Underoos, chill out."

"You try chilling out when you're in the same plane as the Avengers."

"It's called a Quinjet."

"Same thing."

Mister Stark glared at him with a mock-hurt expression as he climbed onto the _jet_, adjusting the seat as he sat on the pilot's chair, turning on the engine.

Miss Romanoff had flown to Berlin in order to meet them at the hotel; a three-hour flight, given the fact that it was faster than any other plane in the States. That amount of time should've made them arrive at the hotel first, but given the unholy amount of pit stops they made, they almost took four hours to arrive.

As the rest of the group continued climbing into the plane, where he could hear every breath that someone took, and every dip that the jet would make, Miss Natasha stayed out, being the last one behind. Peter frowned, listening to distinct chatter while absentmindedly taking off and putting in the same cartridge over and over again.

It was empty, he was an idiot like that. He hadn't thought of bringing extra web fluid in case there was a fight while they were in the intern disguise; which of course, happened. He never had a chance of going back, either. So Peter couldn't swing around or yank weapons out of people's hands, though he seriously doubted that he would need to do either in this situation. Still, it was interesting to think about.

Zemo's smart. Real smart. He analyzes people and understands their weaknesses and learns how to act from there. He knows what to say to get people mad, knows how to get them to do things for him. But he's also weak; all he has against the Avengers is his brain. He's human, he's a regular person, he will never be able to defeat them in a fight. Just tackle him and call it a day, easy peasy.

"Look who decided to join in on the fun."

Peter looked up, his gaze landing on a familiar man dressed in black, his mask in his hands as he awkwardly stepped on the jet behind Miss Romanoff. Peter looked over at Barnes, who took a small step backward.

"Your highness," Mister Stark said, raising his eyebrows in surprise, "You escaped from Ross? Damn, that takes skills."

"Stark." Natasha looked at him with an exasperated expression, closing the door after Mister Kitty stepped in.

"I am here to help." He sat down on an empty seat.

"Help with what?"

"Stopping Zemo."

"We really need seven people to stop a human person?" Peter frowned, crossing his arms. "Also, last time I checked, you were trying to kill Bucky, so…"

Mister Rogers looked at the teen with raised eyebrows, and Mister Stark spoke up, "Okay, first of all: its six people. You're not helping." He held up his hand when Peter glared at him, about to open his mouth. "And second; yeah, what's with the change of heart?"

"I've been following you-"

"-that's not creepy at all-" Peter mumbled quietly to himself.

"-and I realized that I was wrong about you," Mister Cat looked at Barnes with a genuine expression, remorse in his eyes. "The more I thought about it, the more I accepted that it wasn't you that had killed my father. I apologize for my assumptions."

It was silent for a while, save for Mister Stark awkwardly turning on the engines of the jet. Bucky eventually spoke, a soft, "It's okay."

The man just shook his head, putting his mask to the side, sighing, "It's the least I can do."

And then it was quiet. Too quiet.

Until Peter became aware of the rumble of the engines; the sudden realization that he was indeed flying again. The teen gulped, gripping tightly onto his seat as he ears popped, and he almost screamed out loud. Instead, he gritted his teeth, repeating the same two words inside his head over and over again.

_It's okay, it's okay, it's okay._

He focused on the voice in his head, squeezing his eyes shut as his stomach churned when he felt the jet leave the ground, fully realizing that they were now many feet away from the nearest rooftop. Peter heard a small crinkle, and he released his grip on his seat, letting his head rest against a window. His stomach did a flip and he let out a small, shuddering sigh, slowly opening his eyes again.

_You're okay._

"I guess we know who here doesn't like planes." Mister Stark's voice called out from the front of the jet before Peter saw him swivel his chair around and walked towards him. "You alright, kid?"

Peter shrugged numbly, looking around only to see Barnes beside him, holding out a water bottle. The teen hesitantly took it, before Stark gently grabbed his hand.

"Easy, your hand's trembling to shit, calm yourself."

The man let go, and Peter took a deep breath, fighting away the tears forming in his eyes, and closed his fist before opening again, his hand more stable. He took the bottle from Bucky's hand and drank, the water finally bringing him back to his senses and calming down his churning stomach. He closed the cap and looked around, blowing on his hands to warm them.

It was then he realized that everyone else was watching him, save for Miss Widow who was now flying the jet.

So that meant that a third of the Avengers, a man with a metal arm, and a dude with a fursuit saw him almost have a full panic attack over a stupid plane. That's absolutely amazing.

"You okay?"

Peter looked at Mister Stark, who was knelt beside him with… he'd say with concern, but the man would've probably laughed at him and denied it. He shrugged, offering a small smile. "A bit."

"Great. Good to have you."

He patted the teen on the shoulder and left, walking back towards the front of the jet.

Peter held the water bottle close to him, lifting his feet up and wrapping his arms around his legs, rocking back and forth. Bucky placed a granola bar beside him and went towards Mister Rogers and Mister Bird, leaving Peter with Mister Kitty Cat.

What should he even say? He'd love it if they could talk about the man's suit; what kind of material did they use to make it bulletproof, how did he come up with the design- but no, he'll probably think that the teen was just a nerd. Which he was, but he didn't like classifying himself like that.

Thankfully, Mister Cat spoke first. "Not a fan of planes, huh?"

Peter shook his head, "No, not at all."

"How come?"

Shrug. "Dunno."

"This your first time?"

"Second."

"Ah."

"Mm."

"Fourteen?"

"How'd you know?" Peter frowned, crossing his arms.

"I overheard your conversation."

"Oh."

"You should meet my sister."

"Maybe next time."

Peter turned his head, loud laughter and groans coming from Bucky's group. Barnes looked amused while Mister Rogers looked away, upset, maybe even embarrassed. Meanwhile, Sam was the one laughing, shaking his head and covering his mouth in an attempt to stop.

The teen looked longingly at the group, wishing that he was with his friends like Ned and Michelle and laughing like they were. Peter sighed, taking off his web shooters- they'd be no use if they're empty- and unwrapped the uneaten granola bar beside him.

_You're not helping._

Peter rested his head against the wall, hoping that he'd be able to sleep through most of the ride. Unfortunately he didn't, but he was able to block most of the sounds out.

They didn't know Zemo like he did. He'd figure out a way to sneak away, prove to them that he could do things on his own.

He'd be the one cuffing him. Then he could go home and see May again.

* * *

"This is crazy; what the hell are we doing with a ten year old kid in _Iceland_?"

Bucky looked over to Sam, who was standing with his arms crossed. Stark undid his seatbelt and walked over to their group, frowning as he fiddled with some buttons.

"He's staying in here, maybe you can keep him company. C'mon, let's suit up."

"We don't need six guys going after Zemo," Peter pointed out as the door opened to the outside world, revealing a snow-covered environment.

Bucky frowned as he watched the teen wrapped his arms around himself, and took off his own jacket, handing it to the kid. Peter smiled lightly at him and awkwardly put it on, blowing on his hands to keep himself warm. Barnes turned back towards Steve, standing up as well.

"Which is why we're keeping you here with Sam and T'Challa," Tony replied, grabbing his suitcase that he had stored at the back of the jet. He pressed a button on the handle and it slowly formed into his suit; red and gold and dramatic all around.

"Aw, c'mon," Sam sighed.

"Hey, I don't want to keep you here either, but if you haven't noticed, there's a teenage boy in this plane and he might wreck everything if we leave him by himself."

"I have a name, you guys know that right?"

Bucky looked over at Peter, who was scowling under the stare of Stark. As much as he hated the wording, he had to admit that the man was right. Peter can't stay by himself; what if someone came in and took him away while no one was looking? And besides, the teen couldn't go outside with them, he didn't need to. They had it handled, there's no reason that a kid should be out here dealing with these kinds of problems anyways.

The kid should be out there doing his school work, playing games and hanging out with his friends. He shouldn't be out here swinging around with a t-shirt without a sweater on.

Their voices pulled Barnes out of his thoughts as they continued discussing their plans, with Peter butting in, "I can handle myself; just give me a gun if you're that paranoid."

"Like you know how to use a gun," Natasha crossed her arms, grabbing her own pistols from a cabinet labeled "Natasha Romanoff."

"I do! I shot at rats with BBs."

Romanoff looked over at Steve, who scoffed and shook his head. "No. You're staying here."

"This is so stupid, I know him better than anyone else here. We'd have more of a chance if I-"

"You're staying here and that's _final_."

Peter looked over to Bucky in protest, who shrugged and grabbed his backpack. He checked over his supplies and made sure that nothing was missing before he lugged it onto his back. They continued going over a semi-fleshed out plan before Steve called him over, throwing him a gun before exiting the jet.

"Wait!" Peter called out to Stark, who turned around.

"Hm?"

"What do- what do you want me to do with this?" He stuttered before holding up the red book.

Stark hesitated for a moment before giving him a wave of his hand. "Put it up front."

Barnes patted the kid's shoulder before he left, followed by Stark and Romanoff. The door closed behind them, and he sighed, lifting the gun close to his chest. He watched as white puffs of breath disappeared into the air, and they started to walk away from the jet.

Their footsteps made crunching sounds on the snow as they walked, and small little flakes fell onto the ground the further away they got from the quinjet.

"Why the hell would he go all the way to Iceland?" Tony spoke up, his voice slightly muffled from his mask.

"The other soldiers?" Steve looked towards Bucky, who shrugged.

"Maybe."

"Other soldiers?" Natasha tilted her head, her arms wrapped around herself in an attempt to keep herself warm.

"I'll tell you about it later."

It was silence, except for the sound of their footsteps, until they found the old truck in the distance. Barnes looked around cautiously, making sure that no one was around them before he began walking faster. The others followed until they reached the truck.

There was… A sort of entrance by the truck; a cave that was locked up, it needed a password. Tony lifted his faceplate up and walked toward it, tapping on the keypad and receiving a beep, indicating that the password was incorrect.

"Where is he?" Natasha asked, looking around and moving hair out of her face, frowning.

"Not sure..."

"Do you think it's a trap?"

"Probably not."

Bucky walked around the truck, his finger resting on the trigger of the gun in case Zemo suddenly popped up, but no one came. There was nobody else in sight. He moved his metal arm and swiped off the snow that had been collecting on the windows and windshield, before he dropped his gun in shock, quickly picking it up afterward and backing away.

"Holy shit."

Zemo was slouched against the seat of the car, though Barnes didn't recognize him at first. Half his face was splattered with blood and the seat seemed to be stained to a permanent red. His skin looked pale, maybe a greyish blue, and his phone was resting against the windshield.

Bucky looked over toward the others, who had all gathered to see what had happened to cause him to react like that, and Steve gently grabbed hold of his arm. He turned to look at him and frowned, staying close to him while Natasha didn't look fazed; maybe she was, her lips were turned to a small frown but Barnes wasn't quite sure if it was because of the fact that there was a dead body in front of them.

He watched as Stark slowly walked up to the truck and broke the window, unlocking the vehicle and causing tiny glass shards to fall out as well as a small grey pistol. Tony picked it up and turned it around his hands before looking back at the Zemo, placing it back down.

"Christ."

"Poor bastard," Natasha sighed, shaking her head. "Should've been earlier."

"Should we tell Ross?" Steve asked hesitantly, looking over at Stark.

"No, we're not really on the best of terms with him right now," Tony pulled down his faceplate again, tapping his fingers on his leg. "Uh… Maybe Fury?"

"He's AWOL." Romanoff pointed out.

"Yeah, but…" Steve trailed off.

"This is crazy, what the fuck?"

Bucky looked at Stark, who was pacing back and forth.

"Fury will know what to do. We're not qualified to deal with this. He'll uh…"

Steve walked over to Tony, placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him down and stop him from pacing. "Hey, it's okay, I'll deal with it, alright?"

Tony nodded quickly, "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

"You guys go ahead, I'll follow you."

Bucky was about to open his mouth to protest, but Steve shook his head and gave him a semi-reassuring smile, encouraging him to go follow Stark.

They left the truck and the mysterious cave behind, and Barnes hoped that they'd never have to look at anything like that again. It reminded him of too much; too much of the past, too much of Hydra. He walked beside Natasha, the trek back silent and uncomfortable, besides the hushed talk between Steve and Fury, who was on the phone. Bucky looked at Romanoff, a pinched expression resting on her face. "You okay?"

She shrugged, letting out a soft sigh. "I've seen worse. It just… doesn't really make it any easier."

Barnes nodded understandingly, rubbing her back reassuringly. She looked at him with a confused look before eventually warming up to the action, even giving him a small smile. They continued walking back to the Quinjet.

When they entered, a wave of warm air hit Bucky's face and he placed his gun off to the side, taking off his backpack and sitting down beside Sam. Natasha placed her pistols back into her drawer, slamming it closed and sitting down by T'Challa.

"That was fast," Sam commented, tilting his head and smirking. Bucky shrugged, grabbing a water bottle from his backpack and taking a sip.

"What happened?" Peter asked excitedly, sitting at the edge of his seat. "I wanted to sneak out but they wouldn't let me."

Tony walked into the jet and lifted his faceplate up, walking out of his suit and raising his eyebrows at Peter, who shrunk away in embarrassment.

"Nothing happened," Bucky said easily, shrugging as he closed the cap. "Authorities came in, he was arrested."

"Seriously? I didn't think he'd surrender that easily…" Peter frowned, sighing. "At least it's over, I guess."

Bucky nodded hesitantly as Steve walked into the Quinjet, closing the door behind him and giving Peter a small smile. Peter waved awkwardly, letting his back hit the wall again.

"Do I get to go home now?"

Steve looked at the teen for a while, an uncomfortable silence dragged on as Tony started the engines and began hovering off the ground. "Yes."

Peter had a big grin on his face, possibly the biggest that Bucky had ever seen since he had met the teen. It made an awful feeling grow in his chest, like a knife twisting in his gut. He didn't like lying, he never had, and the kid looked so… Excited to go back home.

Back to his aunt.

God, how the hell were they going to tell him? Peter looked so happy and he never wanted to ruin that but that was the only relative he had. He couldn't live by himself, and he certainly couldn't find out on his own.

Bucky looked toward Steve, who looked equally as pained as him, but Peter was oblivious, talking excitedly to a bored Sam while they started flying.

Eventually, Peter fell asleep, quiet snores emitting from him as they continued their flight back to… New York, Bucky was assuming that's where they were headed until Stark spoke up: "You guys need to go into hiding for now."

"Huh?" Sam frowned, trying not to move his shoulder, which Peter had fallen asleep on.

"You're still wanted."

"You can go to Wakanda," T'Challa offered, and Steve shook his head.

"It's okay-"

"No, seriously. I owe it to you. After all this. Please, let me help." He looked over to Bucky, who looked away and out of the window.

Steve looked at Barnes for conformation, getting a shrug and a nod, and sighed. "If it's not too much to ask."

"Of course it's not."

Stark let out a deep breath, pressing a few buttons and lifting up the jet. "Next stop: Wakanda."

Bucky looked over to the sleeping Peter, who was snoring peacefully as his head rested comfortably on Sam's shoulder. "And then Queens."

There was a beat of silence, the rumble of the jet the only thing breaking the silence, until Tony nodded. "We really should've told him beforehand." He looked at Steve, who sighed and bit his lip, looking at the sleeping figure.

"Dibs out," Sam said quietly.


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks again MpeachlinS for betaing the story!

* * *

At first, it was dark; cold and dreary and empty. Lost.

But then afterward, Peter saw bright lights blinding him, causing him to squint his eyes in an attempt to block most of it out. He couldn't hear anything; silence filled the void, a cruel agonizing silence. And then a high pitched sound, as if somebody's microphone was receiving feedback, and Peter screamed, dropping down to his knees and covering his ears, his head pounding and his hands shaking.

The sound grew higher and higher and higher until it stopped and Peter squeezed his eyes closed and opened them again, finding himself in a place that he recognized. Home, he thought to himself as he looked around, staggering up to his feet.

Only it wasn't their apartment. Somewhere close, near a highway, near the hospital. Hospital? That was where May worked; she was a nurse, a good one, and Peter frowned, walking along the side of the road.

He didn't know what was going on, not really anyway. Peter felt lost, like he didn't belong there as he dumbly looked around his environment, trying to pinpoint exactly where he was. The highway just by the hospital, it was almost always filled with traffic.

Except… It didn't look like it was that busy today; no pedestrians and the hospital's parking garage didn't look too full from the short glance he took. Peter subconsciously scratched the back of his neck, before he saw a familiar car drive past him.

"May?" Peter asked, his voice soft as he ran towards the car. No one seemed to hear him, and continued to go about their daily lives. He frowned as he continued to run toward the car, not caring whether or not he looked like a lunatic to the others if they could even see him.

His vision suddenly went blurry, and the colors around him dulled, almost as if he was living in a world of black and white. Peter heard a harsh buzzing filling his ears, and he could barely concentrate before he saw a vehicle speeding toward May's car, going against traffic as they swerved around.

Peter's eyes widened as his senses came back to him, and he immediately moved to shoot a web to May's car, hoping to move the vehicle out of the way, only to realize that his web-shooters weren't on his wrist. He moved his wrist and narrowed his eyes, confused as to why they weren't on before he heard a loud, deafening honk from behind him.

Peter moved out of the way, scraping his elbow in the process. He staggered back up, watching as his aunt's car tried to swerve away, and everything was too bright, too loud. He ran across the road, hoping that he could somehow magically stop the two vehicles from colliding.

"_MAY_-!" He screamed, and she seemed to look at him through the windshield, seemed to have heard him. Peter heard a loud crash and he was pushed back by the force, his ears felt as if they were bleeding before he realized what was going on.

This was a _dream_.

A cruel dream, a nightmare. This wasn't real. May's never been in a car accident.

Peter held his head in his hands, trying to muffle the sounds of people screaming for help, the rushed talk of doctors shushing everyone. He saw a bright, blinding light and he squeezed his eyes shut, rocking himself back and forth and whispering to himself.

"This is a dream, a dream. Not real. A dream."

But his brain wouldn't accept that, it wouldn't let him wake up. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was a dream, he couldn't wake up, and he screamed, begging himself to wake up.

Peter heard a high pitched beep in the background followed by another beep, and he almost started crying as his ears began to hurt again. The beeps were in a steady rhythm until they started becoming irregular before eventually becoming one consistent beep.

He didn't really comprehend it at first; thought it was just another thing to torture him in his nightmares until he finally realized what the beeping meant.

A heart monitor.

* * *

Bucky crossed his arms as the group began to have a debate. They argued about the kid, about what they would do once they got back to New York. T'Challa seemed confused but it seemed like he'd pieced most of it together.

"Just drop him off with Child Protective Services and call it a day," Sam stated, careful to be quiet since Peter was still fast asleep on his shoulder. Bucky frowned at that suggestion, half glaring at Sam for even suggesting something like that.

From what he had read and heard, they were never thorough, they put kids in random homes and expect them to fend for themselves. Sure, some people have had good experiences with CPS, but most didn't.

"I think we all know that their system is fucked up right now," Stark said with no real humor, frowning.

"He could stay with you until we figure his guardianship out…" Steve said thoughtfully, and Stark looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Are you kidding me? I can barely take care of myself, let alone another human being!" Tony shook his head, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets. "Forget it, he'll be in danger if he stays with me."

"And you are sure he doesn't have any other relatives?" T'Challa asked quietly.

"None. The last one's gone, died on the operating table. I thought I told you this."

That statement made everyone fall silent, save for the soft humming of the engine as they drew closer to Wakanda.

It wasn't like they haven't had experiences with dead parents; hell, T'Challa's dad just died not even a week ago. But this was a kid. A fourteen-year-old kid who barely had the time to have a proper childhood. He hadn't even finished school yet and he's trying to be a hero.

From what they had gathered from reading all files pertaining to Peter, his parents- who were surprisingly SHIELD agents- had died in a plane crash and left the kid to his aunt and uncle, and then seven months ago, his Uncle died; a month before a certain Peter Parker was reported missing. A YouTube channel called "NYCSpider-Man" that, true to their name, uploaded clips of Spider-Man also stopped uploading around the same time.

The kid's had it rough, even Barnes could admit that, but it wasn't like any of them were experts in this sort of thing. From what he's read about Stark, he'd rather drink his problems away than deal with a teenager with raging hormones. Bucky supposed that maybe T'Challa or Sam would be able to take care of him, but on second thought he decided against it. If anyone heard that a kid was living with the Avengers, they could use that against them.

"Hey, shh…"

Bucky turned to look at Sam, who had his arm on Peter's shoulder, rubbing it gently. He tilted his head, leaning over to get a closer look. He mouthed something to Sam but the man just shrugged, continuing to do soothing circles on his shoulder.

"Easy, kid. C'mon, you can wake up from the nightmare…"

Tony cocked his head to the side and rushed to Peter's side, which wasn't ignored by Steve, who raised his eyebrows at him in surprise before he crossed his arms and looked over to Natasha. She pressed a button on the dashboard of the jet before she undid her seatbelt and walked towards small group.

Barnes could hear Peter's quiet whimper as he moved around, shaking his head slightly, still asleep. Sam frowned, now gently shaking his shoulder. "Let's go, kid. It's just a dream."

Peter gasped, heaving heavy breaths as he sat up, fully awake. He looked around wildly, his eyes red; almost as if he had been crying. Bucky frowned as he started to stand up in order to get closer to the kid, before Stark rubbed Peter's back reassuringly.

"Easy, you alright?"

Peter shook his head almost immediately after being asked that question. He opened his mouth before he choked out a quiet sob, his head still shaking and leaning close to Tony. The man looked surprised before awkwardly wrapping an arm around the kid's shoulder, patting him with no real rhythm.

"I- I had a dream," Peter began quietly, looking as if he was trying to snuggle closer to Stark. Barnes almost smiled at the sight.

"Yeah?"

"My… My aunt, she… I was on a highway; back in Queens, I mean-" Peter stuttered, struggling to find the words to finish his story, "-and then this car was speeding and swerving and then there was this loud beeping and it was so _loud_ and I couldn't wake up- er, sorry."

He wasn't crying anymore, only soft hiccups here or there, and he slowly pulled himself away from Stark, blushing lightly. Meanwhile, Bucky and Steve looked at each other, and then to Natasha.

The kid witnessed his aunt's death.

Maybe not fully; it was a dream, but he had obviously seen the biggest part of it. Barnes watched as Steve knelt down in front of Peter, placing a hand down on his knee.

"Mister Rogers?" The kid asked softly, his voice raspy from crying.

* * *

_Your aunt is dead, Peter... She died after a fatal car crash. I'm sorry._

_Your aunt is dead._

_Your aunt is dead._

_Your aunt is-_

Peter shook his head frantically, covering his ears to get rid of the words that Mister Rogers placed in his head. She couldn't be dead. She can't.

They're lying. They have to be.

It was a dream, wasn't it? A hellish nightmare where his worst fear came to life, where his last family member died and he couldn't save her. It was like reliving Ben's death all over again. It couldn't be true.

Peter had felt numb at first when Steve first told him. Had been shaken to the core, but he didn't know how to react. it was as if someone flipped a switch in his brain and all his senses just stopped working.

Mister Stark tried to talk to him, he could tell; but Peter continued shaking his head, ignoring everyone trying to calm him down.

This couldn't be happening. Not right now. It shouldn't.

She wasn't supposed to die. She was supposed to be alive and when Peter finally came back home, he'd hug her tightly and try and make up a believable story about where he had been for the past five months.

Five months.

Five months, and now he'll never see her again.

Never hear her laugh, never watch terrible sit-coms, never hear her terrible jokes.

No, no, he cannot be crying right now. Not right now.

Not in front of the Avengers, no.

He let out a strangled sob, hiding his face in his hands with his back hunched forward, his chest heaving with every breath he took. Peter felt Mister Stark rub his back in a circular motion, but he _screamed_, an agonizing scream that made his throat raw.

Peter struggled against someone's hold as they hugged him close, attempting to pull away and pounding on their chest, ignoring the stream of tears falling clear off his face, whispering to himself the same words over and over again: "Please, May. I'm sorry. Please. Come back."

"Easy, Peter. I got you. I'm sorry." That was Mister Rogers that was hugging him, calm and collected, although it sounded like his voice was shaking ever so slightly. Peter just shook his head again, weakly punching his chest while his breaths came out as hiccups and sobs.

"She can't be dead," Peter repeated to no one in particular, his voice quiet and meek. "She can't. She can't."

"Peter…"

"She's _not_!" He snapped before furiously pushing Steve away as he wiped away his tears. "She _can't_! She-"

"Hey, easy there, kid, you're okay," Sam mumbled quietly, placing a gentle hand on Peter's arm. The teen looked at him before pulling away.

Peter sniffled, his throat dry and his head pounding, opening and closing his fists so that he could stop them from shaking. He looked around through a blur of tears and noticed that Natasha had her face turned away, her expression almost guilty, and Peter looked away before he got caught staring.

"Bucky," Peter looked at his friend, who hesitantly looked back at him. His quiet voice shook slightly as he tried to keep his tears at bay, "tell me he's lying. Tell me it's not true."

Bucky only looked away, a sort of remorse in his eyes as he replied in a soft tone, "I'm sorry."

Peter's breath hitched as the room felt like it was tilting as his head started to hurt, shaking his head again and again and again.

She couldn't be dead.

She _couldn't_ be.

Not after everything he's done in order to come back. Not after everything.

After everything he's been through.

It couldn't have all been for nothing. It couldn't be.

"We are landing in Wakanda," A robotic voice announced from the speakers, the only thing that broke the silence other than Peter's quiet sobs, finally feeling everything around him fall apart.


End file.
